Forgive and Forget
by Canadian-Girl14
Summary: Two brothers once friends, now enemies. Can they get past their differences and reconcile? And can they face what is yet to come?
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Hey everyone! First I'll thank you for actually clicking on my story and getting past the horrible summary that I wrote… It was pretty bad, I know, but I've always been bad at writing summaries for things. Anyway, my story takes place after Eldest, but is not my take on the third book because I know that this will never happen. So I'll stop writing now and let you read. Hope you enjoy it! Oh, and please review!! Tell me if it's good, bad, horrible, changes you'd like to see, etc. I like constructive critism but please don't flame. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Eragon,_ _Eldest_, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.

Chapter One:

Eragon glared at the man towering above him. In his head, he cursed every person in Alagaesia that he could think of. One came to mind more quickly than any other: Roran.

It was, of course, his cousin's fault that he was now stuck in Galbatorix's chambers. The more he thought about his cousin, the more he remembered the previous days' activities. Roran, being Roran, had manipulated him into going to Helgrind to rescue his 'beloved' Katrina. He had even gone as far as to imply that everything was Eragon's fault. Granted, Eragon did feel responsible for what had transpired in Carvahall, but he did not need to be reminded of it so blatantly by his cousin.

Needless to say, Eragon had given in to his cousin's demands and flown to Helgrind on Saphira to rescue Katrina. And that was when everything began to go wrong. While Saphira was still in the air, Roran had leapt off her back and gone running into Helgrind, wielding his hammer and yelling like a madman. The Ra'zac and Lethbraka were soon alerted to their presence and began to attack. Eragon lost track of Roran, and although he was concerned about his cousin's welfare, had more important things to worry about. Namely, being greatly outnumbered.

Even with his elf-like qualities, Eragon had tired quickly as the Ra'zac kept appearing. For each one that fell, another seemed to take its place. Eventually, he could withstand the attack no longer, and he made a fatal error. The last thing that he remembered of Helgrind was the mighty roar that Saphira had let out.

Then everything went black.

Eragon's thoughts drifted back to his cousin. He had no idea what had happened to Roran. Had he even found Katrina? Were they both prisoners of the Ra'zac? Was Roran in Uru'Baen too? Or had he managed to escape? And what of Saphira? Eragon sighed deeply. He had had no contact with his dragon ever since he had awoken in his cell.

A cruel laugh brought Eragon back to reality.

"Daydreaming were we?" The King of Alagaesia asked. "Well, I suppose I should not expect anything less from a mere boy. But tell me, what is it that they call you? Shadeslayer? Tell me, _Shadeslayer_, what was it that you were thinking about?"

"That's none of your business," Eragon snapped.

"Well, if that's the way you want it to be…" Galbatorix looked at him coolly. "Murtagh thought he could withstand me too, young and fool that he was. He soon found out what happens, didn't you Murtagh?"

For the first time, Eragon noticed Murtagh standing off to the side in the room. Disgusted, he turned away.

"What? Is this not a happy reunion?" Galbatorix chuckled. "Two brothers; once friends, now enemies. Murtagh's happy, aren't you, Murtagh?"

The dark haired boy glanced up at his name, but made no attempt to answer.

"I said, you're happy, aren't you Murtagh?"

Staring down at his feet, Murtagh mumbled a reply.

Eragon glanced at Murtagh out of the corner of his eye. What had happened to his strong, stubborn friend? When they had travelled together, searching for the Varden, Murtagh had always had a strong voice, and when he believed in something, spoke about it with passion. He had never been soft-spoken, not even in Farthen Dur, when Ajihad had figured out who he was. Murtagh had always been one to stick up for himself and his beliefs. So who was this quiet young man that now faced him?

"Good," Galbatorix said. "Because I only want my best man to be happy."

Murtagh visibly blanched.

"And," the King carried on, "What could be better than bringing my most _loyal_ warrior his brother?"

"I'm not his brother," Eragon cut in.

Galbatorix's smile twisted. "Oh, aren't you?" He asked.

"I may be in blood," Eragon began. "But I do not consider myself that… _monster's_ brother, nor shall I ever. I do not even consider him a friend anymore, for friends do not _betray_ one another. For now and evermore, he will be considered my enemy, for that is what he has chosen to become."

"So you do not care for him at all?" Galbatorix questioned?

Eragon glanced over at Murtagh who was staring stonily at the wall.

"Aye, I do not care for him at all," he confirmed.

The King stared hard at Eragon, then said, "So it should not matter if I do this?"

Eragon glanced up in surprise as he heard Murtagh hiss in pain. The older of the two brothers was on the cold stone floor, his breath coming out in short, pained gasps. Although nothing physical could be seen to be ailing Murtagh, Eragon knew the King was using magic. He looked up to see Galbatorix staring at him appraisingly.

Determined not to let the situation bother him, Eragon broke eye contact with the King. For had he not just told Galbatorix that he didn't care at all about Murtagh? Eragon shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. One minute passed, then two. Murtagh's breathing became more ragged as time passed. Finally, unable to suppress it any longer, Murtagh let out an agonized scream.

Eragon tightened his hands into fists. He would not be broken! But as one more tormented scream reached his ears, he could take it no longer.

"Stop!" Eragon cried out. "Stop it!"

Galbatorix looked over at him amused, but soon afterwards the screaming ceased. Soon all that could be heard was Murtagh's laboured breathing.

"I thought you did not care for him," Galbatorix simply stated. Eragon flushed. "I would advise you not to lie to me again boy, for if you do, there could be considerable consequences."

Eragon gritted his teeth. How he hated the King! Briefly he thought about trying to kill him, but then realized he had better not for the sake of Alagaesia.

"Murtagh, where do you think you're going?" Galbatorix asked sharply.

Eragon looked up. Murtagh was one step away from the huge gilded doors that separated Galbatorix's chambers from the hallway that led to the rest of the castle. His arm was outstretched, frozen, reaching for the handle. Eragon could see his old friend visibly shaking.

"I- I was just going to my quarters," Murtagh said hoarsely, his throat raw from screaming. "I figured we were finished… my lord." The last bit he said quietly, almost as if it were an after thought.

"Well, you thought wrong," Galbatorix smirked. "But I suppose it is getting late. Very well! We shall continue this another day. Murtagh, take Eragon to his new room. I want him to have the one next to you."

"But-"

"Murtagh! Do not argue with me! Have you not learned by now to do what I tell you when I tell you to do it?! Do not question me or my decisions, lest I be forced to do something I may later regret!"

"Yes, my King," Murtagh obliged as he pulled open the heavy door slowly.

Eragon followed Murtagh out into the hallway quickly, not wanting to be left alone with the King for too long. Out in the light of the hallway, he got a better look at Murtagh. His old friend was shaking badly, so much that he could barely walk. Bruises and cuts covered the parts of his flesh exposed to the air, and he had a nasty scar up near his temple.

Out of the sight of Galbatorix, Eragon fell in step beside Murtagh.

"Here… let me help you," he offered Murtagh, pulling the older's boy arm around his shoulder so that he could put some of his weight on Eragon.

But Murtagh shrugged him off and glared at him.

"Don't touch me!" He hissed. "I don't need your help, or want your help. And I especially don't need your pity. I _betrayed_ you, remember?! You don't care for me at all!" Here it seemed like his voice broke, but he quickly continued, "So just leave me alone!"

Eragon took a step back, shocked. As he watched Murtagh slowly continue on down the hall, all he could wonder was, _how did it come to this?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks to all of the people who reviewed the first chapter!!! I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully I can keep it up! Anyway, sorry about the delay, I'm in the middle of finals right now. I hope this chapter is as good as the first, but personally, I didn't like it as well, and I don't think it turned out as good. But, I hope you enjoy it anyway, and please review and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Two:

Murtagh stared sullenly at himself in the mirror. Dark circles had formed underneath his eyes, and his cheeks had begun to form hollows in the centers. He was a beaten and battered man. Bruises and cuts from his daily training sessions with Galbatorix had manifested themselves on his face, and he had an awful scar on his temple from when he had been hit over the head by an Urgal. Gingerly, Murtagh raised his hand to touch it, remembering that fateful day.

He had been out with Ajihad, the Twins, and some of the other Varden men clearing out the remaining Urgals. They had decided to return home, and just when they caught a glimpse of it, were ambushed from behind. Ajihad had been killed and Murtagh himself had been knocked unconscious by an Urgal.

And then things had gone from bad to worse. When Murtagh woke up, he found out that the Twins were traitors and had been instructed by King Galbatorix to capture and bring him back to Uru'Baen. They left Murtagh's bloody tunic in the tunnels, making everyone think that he, and themselves, were dead. Then they had brought him before the King, but not before torturing him.

The King had punished him severely too, putting Murtagh through more pain than he had ever thought imaginable. Soon afterwards, the dragon eggs were brought before him and the red one hatched. He called it Thorn, for lack of a better name. And then the unthinkable happened…

Murtagh shuddered just thinking about it. He willed himself to stop thinking about it. For it was better not to dwell on things he couldn't change. But he couldn't stop. Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, Murtagh found that he could pretend that Galbatorix didn't know his true name, didn't have complete power over him. But the one thing that he could never forget was the way Galbatorix had figured out his true name. Of course, he hadn't believed the King when he had been told how it would happen. He had even laughed, saying he would believe it when he saw _her_, heard _his_ true name coming from _her _lips.

But he was not laughing anymore. Not one smile had graced his lips since Galbatorix had been told his true name. There was nothing to smile or laugh about now.

Murtagh wanted to tell his brother so badly. Not that Eragon would believe anything he had to say, but it would be nice to have someone to confide in. All Eragon believed now was that he was the enemy. It cut Murtagh deeply. He had not wanted this life! He didn't choose it! And he would not be in this predicament if not for _her_! But Eragon would probably learn soon enough.

Murtagh blinked and so did his reflection. There was no use in pitying himself. Pity would not change his situation.

Slowly, Murtagh moved away from the mirror. He walked over to the large window in his quarters and looked down on the courtyard below. People moved freely there, coming and going as they wished. Children laughed and played. Everything was so simple.

Before, Murtagh had contented himself with the fact that Eragon was not in his position. He knew that he had been tough on Eragon at the Burning Plains, but he had good reason to! He didn't need, or want, Eragon to do something stupid like try to rescue him. He didn't want Eragon to end up like him. But then Eragon had gone and gotten captured anyway. And now Eragon hated him.

Briefly, Murtagh considered whether he should have let Eragon just kill him at the Burning Plains. It seemed like he could never do anything right. Galbatorix was angry because he had run away, the Varden didn't trust him because his father was Morzan, and now Eragon considered him an enemy because he thought he had been betrayed.

It seemed like everywhere he went, something bad happened. As Murtagh looked down on the courtyard where the people scurried around like ants, he wondered why his actions were always misunderstood.

Sighing, he turned away. _Thorn_? He reached out with the mental link that he and his dragon shared.

_Yes Murtagh?_

Murtagh smiled bleakly. Thorn was his only friend left. The only one who knew that he had not joined the King willingly. The only one who felt the pain he felt. The only one who understood him.

_Thorn, can I ask you a question?_

_Well, you didn't really give me a chance there did you, because you just asked one._ Murtagh could hear Thorn snorting with laughter. Even he gave a small smile, which was no small feat.

_No seriously,_ Murtagh continued._ I have to ask you something._

_Okay, okay, if you must,_ Thorn said still jokingly.

_Well,_ Murtagh began tentatively. _I just really want to know why you hatched for me of all people. Why me? You could have chosen anyone else-_

_But I didn't!_ Cut in Thorn. _I chose you! I don't know why exactly, a dragon never does, but you just… felt right. You have a good heart, Murtagh, _Thorn added, sensing his Rider's discomfort._ We'll find a way out of this mess, I promise._

_Thorn_, Murtagh said dully. _People have been filling me with empty promises my whole life. Please don't start too! You don't know that we'll get out of this mess! You don't know anything for sure! And how do you know I have a good heart? What if I turn out to be just like my father? What then, Thorn? What then? _The Rider's voice became more harried as he spoke.

_Murtagh! _Thorn said sharply. _You are not your father! You could never be like him. I know you couldn't. I would not have chosen you if I thought that there was even the slightest chance of that!_

_Oh Thorn! _Cried Murtagh. _Why does everything I have always have to be ruined! It's my fault Tornac is dead, my fault Hrothgar's dead, my fault Eragon hates me! Everything or anyone I come in contact with either ends up buried in the ground, or angry with me. If I just died, Alagaesia would be better off. Galbatorix couldn't use me anymore, I couldn't hurt anyone else- couldn't kill anyway else! The whole kingdom would be better off!_

_Murtagh,_ Thorn consoled._ Things will get better. They will, you'll see. But for you to be able to see it, you have to be alive. So don't go do something stupid!_

Murtagh remained silent, so silent that Thorn started believing that he _had_ actually gone and done something stupid. However, Murtagh finally touched their mental link again.

_I just don't want to end up alone_, came the quiet reply.

_You won't, _Thorn said determinedly. _You have me, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Once again, thanks to all who reviewed chapter two. It is very much appreciated! Anyway, sorry about the delay in getting chapter three up on the website. I know what I want to happen in this story, I'm just having a bit of trouble getting it written down. I hope you enjoy chapter three, and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Three:

Eragon sat in his room, staring at the wall. He had been given lavish quarters, yet he did not appreciate them. In fact, he gladly would have slept on the forest floor over the plush bed he was lying on if it meant leaving Galbatorix's castle. The room he was in was open and lit with natural light coming from huge windows on the eastern side, which gave the illusion of freedom. Eragon snorted. He would not feel free until he was out of Uru'Baen and back in the safety of the forest Du Weldenvarden. The floor was made out of carefully cut stone, and smooth wooden furniture furbished the room. A bathroom with a washbasin and toilet were in a connected room. In any other place, at any other time, Eragon would have been quite happy. He was not used to such luxuries. But, he could not appreciate them while he was stuck in Galbatorix's castle, with no allies. He could not even talk to Saphira, who from lack of communication, was becoming like a figment of his imagination.

Determined to reach the mind of his dragon, Eragon tried to contact Saphira again.

_Saphira?_ Eragon reached out. But there was no reply. Not that he thought there would be. Either Galbatorix had blocked their connection somehow, or Saphira had been killed.

He was alone.

The realization scared Eragon. He had never been alone in his life. In Carvahall, he had always had Roran and his Uncle Garrow. Then when he had been forced to leave, he had Brom and Saphira. Then Brom had died and all he had was Saphira, and he had been with her ever since. Nervously, Eragon began to pace the room.

A knock at the door startled Eragon. He knew what it was for. But he was not ready to face the King again! Quickly, Eragon threw himself onto the bed and under the covers, pretending to be asleep.

The knocking at the door became more persistent. Finally, a young voice called out.

"Master Eragon. Lord Galbatorix wishes you meet with him in his quarters right away. You are not to keep him waiting."

Eragon lay in the bed, eyes wide with fear. It was too soon. He couldn't face Galbatorix alone. Where was Saphira?

The knocking became more insistent, but Eragon still lay in the bed. Finally, the knocking became a pounding noise. Eragon closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. He wasn't afraid of Galbatorix. He couldn't be. He was expected to be strong, be unwavering. Yet….. Galbatorix was the most powerful man in all of Alagaesia. He could kill Eragon in an instant.

The door suddenly swung open. A young page stood on the threshold with a couple of guards.

"You are not to keep the King waiting," the boy said angrily.

Eragon just looked at the boy, making no move to get out of the bed. Quietly, the guards moved towards the bed until they were standing right next to it. Then they grabbed Eragon by the arms and hauled him to his feet. Eragon made no move to stop them. He knew it was inevitable that he would see the King. Even if he escaped from these guards, more would surely be waiting somewhere nearby. And even if he managed to get past those guards, there would surely be magic wards placed around the castle. And he had nowhere to go. If he did escape, Galbatorix would find him in an instant.

Slowly, Eragon resigned himself to the fact of what awaited him. Death. He could see now that he had made the choice when he joined the Varden. But he could never have joined the King's side. He couldn't fight for something he didn't believe in.

Eragon struggled to keep himself composed. It wasn't fair! He was all alone. Where were his friends when he needed them? Why didn't they come and rescue him after everything that he had done for them? Had they just forgotten about him as soon as he left for Helgrind with Roran? Nasuada, Arya, Orik. They had all clearly abandoned him. And Murtagh, who he was stuck with, had betrayed him. Hadn't he? Eragon was confused. Had Murtagh betrayed him? Betrayed the Varden? He couldn't make up his mind.

Eragon barely struggled against the guards as they led him out of the room and into the hallway. Servants in the hallway suddenly went quiet as he was brought out, and as he was dragged past them they began to whisper. Eragon could hear them saying "Shadeslayer" and "Argetlam" while whispering encouragement quietly so that the guards would not hear. The names renewed Eragon's hope, and he made a vow to free the servants if he came out of his meeting with Galbatorix alive.

---------------------------

Murtagh heard the pounding on the door next to his and knew what was about to take place. Eragon would be led to Galbatorix's chambers where he would either be forced to swear loyalty to Galbatorix or die. But seeing as how Galbatorix wanted the Dragon Riders to rise again, the second option wasn't very likely. More likely was the fact that Galbatorix would torture him, or use _her_ to learn Eragon's true name, and then use that to make Eragon swear loyalty.

Murtagh stood quietly by his door, resting his head on the frame. He knew he should try to help Eragon, not that Eragon would accept his help. Eragon hated him. Frustrated, Murtagh clenched his hands into fists. Eragon just couldn't see that he wasn't the enemy.

Murtagh sighed and turned away from the door. He would never let Eragon see how much it hurt him to be treated like the enemy. He knew he should help Eragon escape, if not for Eragon, for himself. Because the only way that he would be let out of the King's service was if the King himself were dead. Which would only happen if there was a Dragon Rider that was not in his control. And since it couldn't be Murtagh himself as he was already under the King's control, it would have to be Eragon, because the third dragon egg had not hatched yet and might not even hatch in his lifetime.

Quietly, Murtagh opened the door to his room and peeked out. A couple of Galbatorix's guards were dragging Eragon down the hallway. It looked like Eragon was struggling half-heartedly. He looked like a man condemned to death. His head was bowed and his weak attempts at freedom seemed pathetic. Quickly, Murtagh glanced around. Servants hung around the corridor, gawking at the sight of the young rider. Additional guards were stationed at the far doorway.

Murtagh made a decision. Now was not the time to free his brother. Eragon would just have to hold his own against the King of Alagaesia. Softly, Murtagh closed his door and leaned against the wood. He just hoped his brother would make it out of the meeting alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thanks to all who reviewed chapter three. It is greatly appreciated! Once again, sorry about the delay, I was gone for a few days to watch the FIFA U-20 World Cup, which was amazing! But anyway, moving on. Here's the fourth chapter….**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Four:

Eragon stared straight ahead, ignoring King Galbatorix. He had been in the King's throne room for the better part of an hour, yet he had not uttered a word. Now he could tell that the King was beginning to get frustrated.

Galbatorix had started out nice enough, clearly wanting to gain Eragon's loyalty with flattery. And it was true that the King had a way with words. Upon arriving, Eragon had found himself enraptured by the picture of Alagaesia that the King created. But Eragon knew better. He had seen what could happen from Murtagh when someone believed Galbatorix's twisted lies. So he resolved to keep his mouth firmly shut and had sat there at the table with the King, not making eye contact, and not speaking.

"You know," Eragon heard Galbatorix say, "You are not leaving this castle until you swear loyalty to myself. There's no escaping. And you can forget about anyone coming to rescue you. There is no way they could get in. No way for you to get out."

Eragon glanced up to see the King smirking at him. Quickly, he looked back down. He had pretty much realized this, but to hear it put so bluntly felt like a knife through his heart.

"In fact," the King continued, "Your friends have probably forgotten all about you by now, or fear you are dead."

Forgetting that he had vowed not to speak to the King, Eragon said, "They would never abandon me." But at the same time, he heard the truth in Galbatorix's words. Remembering his own thoughts from earlier, he began to feel guilty about how he had thought that his friends had abandoned him. His friends probably thought he was dead, but he knew they would never stop looking for him, if only for his body to prove that their Rider had died. "They would never forget about me," Eragon said quietly, as if to assure himself of this fact.

"Never?" Galbatorix questioned. "Never say never, boy. You might be in for a surprise."

"Ha," scoffed Eragon, gaining confidence. "Of one thing I am quite sure, and that is that my friends will never stop looking for me."

"Even if they believe you are dead?"

"Especially if they think I am dead, because they will want confirmation of my death."

"Oh," Galbatorix pondered. He sat at the other end of the table from Eragon and stared at him thoughtfully.

"What?" Eragon couldn't help but ask self-consciously.

"Oh, it's nothing really…" Galbatorix trailed off, baiting Eragon.

Mystified, Eragon wouldn't let it go. "What?" He asked again, more harshly than he meant to.

Galbatorix's stare was hard and cold. Eragon felt it on himself and looked down at the table. On a plate in front of him sat some form of roasted meat. Looking down at it, Eragon began to feel sick. With nowhere else to look, he slowly brought his gaze back up to the King's.

The King had not stopped staring at him, and the look made Eragon shiver. Galbatorix's eyes were narrowed slightly and his index fingers were pressed together on the bridge of his nose. His eyes glinted hard as they met Eragon's, making Eragon immediately regret asking what he was thinking.

Galbatorix stood up and began pacing at his end of the table. Occasionally he would stop to pause and look over at Eragon. Eragon forced himself to sit still. He felt like a bug underneath a magnifying glass, and he couldn't help but feel that he was going to end up getting squashed.

"Well," the King began, "You see, you act so high and mighty… Eragon! The great Shadeslayer! You _think_ that you would do something differently from your friends right now if you were in their position. That you would go searching for a friend missing-"

"I would!" Eragon cut in sharply.

"Or thought dead." Galbatorix continued, ignoring Eragon. "You think you would. Because, of course, you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to that person, _if_ they were still alive. You wouldn't leave a friend stranded, left alone, to face whatever enemy they had to face. And as you said earlier, you would look for that person, even if you thought they were dead, because you wouldn't want them to meet some horrible fate."

"Right," Eragon confirmed. "My friends will look for me. They'll come for me."

"Keep telling yourself that, boy," Galbatorix said quietly, menacingly.

"They will!" Eragon shouted. "They won't forget about me!"

Galbatorix stared at him. "How can you be so sure?" He asked.

"Because they're my friends, and friends don't abandon or backstab each other," Eragon replied. Then under his breath he muttered, "Not that you would understand…"

"You think you're so great," Galbatorix intoned, "But you're no better than me. You abandoned one of your friends, yet you act like you do no wrong."

Eragon stared at Galbatorix.

"Yes, you pretend that you are a wonderful person, the one that will save everyone, but you and I are more alike than you think, Eragon. You say now that you would never abandon your friends, that you would always search for them, if only to find their dead body. But I ask you, where were you when Murtagh went missing? Did you search for him like you now claim you would? Or did you never consider Murtagh your friend? Perhaps he was someone not worthy of being saved?"

Galbatorix grinned as he watched the blood drain from Eragon's face. "Yes," the King continued. "The great Shadeslayer is not as great as he thinks he is. Abandoning his friend is not a very noble act, is it? I mean, you would agree with that, would you not, Eragon?"

"I- I did look for him," Eragon said quickly. "I didn't abandon him!"

Yet as Eragon spoke, he began to remember that day. He remembered the Urgals attacking, and jumping on Saphira only to arrive too late. Hearing Ajihad's last words. Seeing that Murtagh and the Twins weren't there. He heard Saphira's words in his mind like she was speaking them to him again. _They may still be alive. Would you abandon them?_ And he remembered the fatigue he had felt. He thought that he would never be able to catch the Urgals in the tunnels. That he would get lost. But he hadn't abandoned them, he had sent in Arya to look for them.

"If you tell yourself that enough times, you might actually start believing it," gloated Galbatorix, bringing Eragon back to the present. "You know, when Murtagh arrived here, he told me that you would come. That you would never abandon him. 'My friends will come, they _care_ about me,'" mocked Galbatorix. "Now that I think of it, you sound remarkably like he did. I saw in his mind how he hoped that you would come and rescue him. I told him it was pointless to believe in such novelties, but still he hoped. Eragon! The great Shadeslayer, who also happened to be his one friend. Of course you would come! But… you never came. And slowly, that hope started dissipating, until it was no more."

Eragon felt sick to his stomach. "Stop it, please stop it," he whispered.

"Why Eragon? Why should I? Don't you want to know? Doesn't it make you feel good to know that someone put so much trust in you, and someone that doesn't trust people very easily at that! You know what? I've been a rude host. I should've thanked you earlier for what you did. After all, you did deliver one of my best soldiers back to me without any trouble. Honestly, I expected more of a challenge!"

Eragon stared down numbly at the plate in front of him. His thoughts swirled through his mind like a whirlwind. Murtagh. Murtagh. Murtagh. Had Murtagh really not betrayed him? Had he in fact betrayed Murtagh? Confused, Eragon could only look blankly up at the King as he began to speak again.

"And then once Murtagh did swear loyalty to me, he tried everything in his power to disobey me. Take for instance what happened at the Burning Plains. I ordered him in the Ancient Language to try and capture you, and he comes back saying that he tried. Want to know what his loyalty to you gave him? Pain. Pain and suffering. I don't think that he could get out of bed for three days after I was through with him. He tried so hard to keep you out of my reach, especially after learning that you were his brother. But somehow, you still managed to get caught. And now here you are!" Galbatorix chuckled.

"Why are you doing this?" Eragon asked quietly.

"Because I'm trying to make a point," the King said, instantly became somber. "You will not leave this castle until you swear loyalty to me. Your friends will not be coming to rescue you, and even if they attempted to, it would not work. Now, swearing your loyalty can be quick and painless, or you can drag out the agony like Murtagh did. It is entirely your choice."

"I will never serve you!" Spat out Eragon.

"Very well…." Galbatorix said swiftly, staring coldly at Eragon.

That was all the warning that Eragon had of the impending pain. The next thing he knew was that his body felt like it was on fire. He screamed, out of fear as much as pain. And then everything started fading away. The corners of his vision became darker and darker, until all he had to see out of was a small pinpoint of light in the center of his pupil. Eragon just wanted the pain to stop, but it wouldn't. Finally, everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has been reading my story and a special thanks to those who have reviewed. The comments are much appreciated! Now, about chapter five. I'm just going to warn everyone in advance that this is not the most exciting chapter ever created. It's actually kind-of boring, but it needed to be here so here it is. On the plus side, it's long! Although long and boring don't really go together. Hmmmm. I promise that things will start picking up next chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Five:

Murtagh paced in his room, restless. Over three hours had passed since Eragon had been taken to Galbatorix, but he hadn't been returned to his room yet. It wasn't a good sign. Every minute that ticked by seemed like an hour. Surely, Murtagh thought, Galbatorix couldn't keep it up much longer.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Murtagh heard footsteps out in the hallway, and then the creak of a door opening. A minute later, the sound of the footsteps could be heard getting fainter and fainter, until they all together disappeared.

Cautiously, Murtagh opened his door a crack and peered out. The hallway was empty, but that didn't surprise him. It was far enough away from the busiest parts of the castle that the servants and guards didn't have much use going down it. There were only three rooms, and Murtagh had been the only occupant until Eragon had been captured. Most of the servants hated attending to the rooms and when they had to, left as quickly as possible, not caring to see the Red Rider or whomever else happened to be there, lest it be the King himself. As for the guards, they had learned long ago that Murtagh was not someone to be bothered, and they kept to themselves outside the entryway that connected the hallway to the rest of the castle.

Quietly, Murtagh slipped out of the doorway, heading towards the room Eragon was occupying. He was not supposed to leave his quarters, and he had been given strict instructions not to talk to Eragon, but at that moment he didn't care. Upon reaching the door, he tried the handle only to find that it wouldn't move. Angrily, he rattled the doorknob a few times without any success.

"Eragon," Murtagh hissed quietly, "Open the door!"

But there was no answer. Sighing, Murtagh gave a quick look over his shoulder and then whispered _jierda_. The lock on the door clicked softly, and Murtagh grabbed the doorknob and twisted it gently. As he pushed the door open, the hinges creaked, and he threw an anxious look at the entryway in the hallway, expecting the guards to come running. When nobody came, Murtagh breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the room, shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him.

Turning around, Murtagh saw Eragon lying in a heap on the floor. At least he thought the thing on the floor was Eragon. Murtagh took a step closer, and stared down in horror. Eragon had been horribly beaten, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and at the sound of Murtagh's footsteps, he flinched and a visible shudder ran throughout his body.

Cautiously, Murtagh approached Eragon until he was kneeling beside him. Gingerly, he reached out and touched Eragon's shoulder, making the younger boy recoil and groan in pain.

Murtagh appraised Eragon's injuries. He was not supposed to use magic outside of his training sessions with the King and any battle he happened to be in, but he had used it once already to break into Eragon's room. Why not continue, seeing as how he would be punished for it anyway.

Quietly, he murmured _waise heill,_ and watched with satisfaction as the magic began to heal Eragon's injuries.

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Eragon's eyes fluttered open. Slowly, things came into focus and he could see Murtagh standing above him, eyes filled with worry. When he noticed Eragon was awake and looking at him, Murtagh's eyes became cold and distant, the ones that Eragon had grown accustomed to seeing. He felt a stab of guilt, and lowered his own eyes. As much as he willed them not to, his eyes filled with tears. He ached everywhere, and glancing down, he saw that he was bruised and bloody.

"How are you feeling?" Murtagh asked quietly with such cool detachment that it seemed to Eragon that his answer did not matter.

"I'm….okay…." Eragon heard himself croak hoarsely.

"Are you well enough to get off the floor?"

"I think so," Eragon replied, hurt by Murtagh's tone, as he slowly got to his feet and moved unsteadily over to the bed. He felt Murtagh's eyes on his back and turned around to face his brother.

"Well…." Murtagh began, "Did you swear loyalty to Galbatorix?"

"No!" Eragon exclaimed, appalled at the thought. His thoughts raced back to when he had been in the throne room. He remembered yelling that he would never swear loyalty to the King, and then pain. A lot of pain. Unsure of what had happened while he was delirious with the pain, he added, "At least, not that I can remember."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Murtagh said sarcastically. "You might have sworn loyalty to him, you could be under his control, but you have no idea!" From the bed where he was sitting, Eragon could hear Murtagh muttering things, and he blushed furiously.

"I can't remember everything that happened," Eragon angrily replied. " But I'm pretty sure that I would remember something like _that_!"

"Great, well… good then," Murtagh muttered.

An awkward lull in the conversation followed. Eragon glanced around the lavish room, pausing on his old friend.

"Murtagh?" Eragon asked tentatively after a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"

Murtagh looked over at Eragon and stared at him. Encouraged, Eragon thought about what he wanted to say. Numerous ideas ran through his mind, but he finally decided to ask the one thing that he dreaded the most. "Where's Saphira? I haven't been able to contact her since I got here."

Murtagh broke his gaze from Eragon's and looked down at his feet, seemingly fascinated with something on the floor. He remained silent, and Eragon felt the blood draining from his face.

"Murtagh?" Eragon whispered.

Murtagh stayed silent. Eragon felt tears begin to leak out of his eyes, but he didn't bother to brush them away.

"I'm sorry, Eragon," Murtagh said finally. "I don't know where she is. She wasn't brought in with you. The King's furious. The Ra'zac say that they didn't do anything to her, that she flew off after they got you, but Galbatorix doesn't seem to believe them. He doesn't think that she would leave you… I'm sorry." He added again, sounding sincere.

Eragon lay down on the bed, and rolled onto his side so that he was not facing Murtagh anymore. The tears continued to run from his eyes, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

Footsteps approached the bed, but Eragon ignored them. A few moments before he had thought that he couldn't get hurt any worse, but now he could see that he had been wrong. He hurt on the inside now, a dull ache, that made it hard to breathe. Saphira was gone. Dead. Not returning. He would never hear her voice again. Never see her again. The thoughts brought on a fresh wave of tears, and he began to cry silently.

------------------------------------------------

Murtagh approached the bed where Eragon was laying, and as soon as he neared it, the younger boy broke out in tears. Murtagh took a step back. Anger he could deal with, but tears? What was he supposed to do with someone that was crying?

Biting his lip, he racked his brain for something, anything, to say. The only thing that he could come up with was a simple, 'I'm sorry'. But what would that mean, anyway? It sounded insufficient. He knew that if Thorn ever died, he wouldn't want to hear someone say 'I'm sorry'.

So instead, he said, "Maybe she's okay. Maybe she's fine, Eragon."

Eragon didn't say anything, but his shoulders were still heaving, and Murtagh could hear him sniffling.

"Do you really believe that Murtagh?" Eragon asked bitterly, after a moment. "Do you really think that she's okay? That she wouldn't be here if she was okay? Do you really think that Galbatorix wouldn't know if she as alive? He must have some reason for not believing the Ra'zac. What other reason could there be for her not being here?!"

"Well-" Murtagh began, but Eragon sharply cut him off.

"Just leave Murtagh! Look, I appreciate what you did, healing me. But let's stop pretending that everything is fine between us. I know you hate me, and to be honest, I can see why. Galbatorix made that very clear. So you can leave now, and be assured that you don't have to pretend that we're friends, or do me any favours like this again, because I don't expect it."

"Wha-"

"Just leave Murtagh!" Eragon yelled. "Just go."

Slowly Murtagh backed towards the door. He had kindled hopes of reconciling with Eragon, but he could see that it wasn't going to work. Eragon hated him just as much as ever.

Murtagh reached the door and grabbed the handle. Anger filled him suddenly, and he turned back to face Eragon. "Sorry," he said quietly, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. "Sorry for ever meeting you. Sorry for ruining your perfect existence. Sorry for _betraying_ you. Sorry for becoming a Rider _you_ have to fight against. Sorry for being an embarrassment to you, for being your brother. Sorry for being alive!" He shouted vehemently, all of his frustration pouring out in the words. Spinning around, he twisted the doorknob, but as he did he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Murtagh, wait!" Eragon paused, lost in his own thoughts. Sadly, he looked up at his friend, turmoil in his eyes. "I- I'm sorry, Murtagh. I didn't know! If I had known, if I had seen…. Murtagh, I tried to do what I thought was right. You know that don't you?" Eragon pleaded, his eyes hollow and empty, locked with Murtagh's.

Murtagh froze. He cleared his throat, all of his previous anger dissipating. "What are you talking about, Eragon?"

"I was tired. I didn't think I could catch up," Eragon ranted.

Murtagh was still frozen, his hand stuck on the door handle. He could scarcely breathe. Things that he had blocked from his memory were flashing through his mind, things he didn't want to remember. Like why none of his friends had come after him. Why he hadn't been rescued from the Twins. Why he was in this position.

"I'm sorry, Murtagh. I'm sorry! I never thought… If I had known that you were alive…. I thought you were dead! I tried to scry you but there was only darkness. And then Arya brought back your tunic. I thought you were dead! Everyone thought you were dead! I didn't think… Murtagh, I'm sorry! You have to believe that!"

Murtagh let his hand drop off the door handle. He closed his eyes and leaned against the rough, wooden door. His throat hurt, and he realized he was holding his breath. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but he couldn't think of one thing to say. Should he forgive Eragon? _Could_ he forgive Eragon? This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Opening his eyes, he glanced over at the bed where Eragon was sitting. His friend looked dejected, and he stared at Murtagh forlornly, as if he knew what Murtagh's reply would be. Quietly Eragon whispered, his voice quivering, "Please. I can't lose two friends today."

Murtagh remained silent, gathering his thoughts. It hurt so much to remember, but it also felt good to know that Eragon felt bad about what had happened. That maybe Eragon didn't hate him as much as he had thought. Yes, he decided, he could forgive Eragon. But first he wanted to know one thing.

"Eragon," Murtagh began. "Are, are you ashamed to be my brother?"

Eragon stared silently at the bed, picking at the blanket with his fingers. "I was at first," he finally answered. "I was surprised. When I was little, I dreamt of my family as people who were noble and heroic. Then, when I found out that my dream was the farthest thing from reality, I couldn't believe it. My father was a monster, and I never knew my mother. My brother… he had been my friend, but had joined the opposition. Can you see it from my point of view? But Murtagh, you were a good friend to me. I know you're a good person. If I hadn't…." His voice trailed off.

"Well, we've all done things we aren't very proud of," Murtagh said at Eragon's indecision. "I was angry with you at first. I began to think that maybe you didn't even consider us friends and that was why no one came after me. I didn't want to be a Rider. Not for Galbatorix. I didn't want Thorn to hatch. I did everything I could to resist Galbatorix, but eventually," his tone became bitter, thinking about _her_, "he found out my true name. What could I do? I had to answer his every beck and call. I became his personal slave. And then he sent me to the Burning Plains to capture you. What could I do? I knew I couldn't bring you back here. So I searched to find the loophole in his plan. This is the last thing I want for you, that I would want for anybody. Which is why we have to figure out a way to get you out of here."

"I'm not leaving without you," Eragon interjected.

"We'll see about that," Murtagh muttered quietly. He knew that as long as Galbatorix was alive, he wouldn't be going anywhere.

"What?" Eragon asked.

"Nothing. But I better go back to my room before I'm missed. I'm sure Galbatorix won't take too kindly to my being here." Not kindly at all, he thought grimly.

"So… we're okay, then?" Eragon inquired, his eyes on Murtagh.

"Yeah…. we're okay." In spite of himself, Murtagh couldn't help breaking out in a small grin as he watched a bleak smile spread across Eragon's face. Remembering Saphira, he added, "I'm sure Saphira is fine, Eragon. She's just too smart to get captured."

Eragon grimaced and his face screwed up. Not wanting to see any more tears, Murtagh said quickly, "But I really have to go! Just do me a favour. Don't swear loyalty to Galbatorix, no matter what he does or says." Without waiting for a reply, Murtagh opened the door and with a quick glance out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, slipped back to his own room. Sighing in relief, he fell back onto his bed.

A sharp knock on the door startled him. Getting up, he walked over and cautiously opened the door. A page stood in the doorway.

Clearing his throat, the page stated, "The King Galbatorix requests your presence immediately in his throne room."

Murtagh snorted. Ordered was more like it. Requested made it seem like it was optional. Nevertheless, he followed the page down the hallway, glancing only once at Eragon's doorway.

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**Author's Note: So there's chapter five. Pretty boring, but I really wanted to have Eragon and Murtagh make up before the next chapter. Hopefully chapter six will be up quicker than this one, although I can't make any promises. However, I do promise chapter six will be more interesting than this one!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Less than a year until the third book comes out!! YAY! Anyway, sorry that its taken me this long to write the chapter. I had to rewrite the whole thing because it was terrible at first! I might as well warn you right now that the next chapter will probably take just as long to write, if not longer. But anyway, thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. It was nice to see that people actually didn't think it was that bad. So on to the next chapter. Let me know what you think of it. And once again, let me just reiterate that this is NOT my take on the third book, it's just something that I thought of in my boredom. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Six:

"Murtagh, Murtagh, Murtagh," Galbatorix droned. "What _am_ I going to do with you?"

Murtagh stared at the King defiantly, fear hidden behind his eyes. Galbatorix met his gaze and the two became locked in a staring contest. Murtagh forced himself to hold his gaze steady. The King's steely look was enough to turn anyone's blood cold, but Murtagh determinedly kept his eyes on Galbatorix's. Minutes passed. Finally, Murtagh broke the gaze and stared past the King at the last egg, a shining emerald green, placed upon a delicate pedestal. He noticed Galbatorix's gaze follow his, and saw the fury just barely contained beneath the King's surface as his eyes reached the egg. Unconsciously, he took a step back.

Galbatorix's head snapped back toward Murtagh.

"Going somewhere?" he taunted, as Murtagh felt magic beginning to pull on him, binding him to the floor. Scowling, he stared at the cold stone, wishing it would open up and swallow him.

"Now where were we before we became so distracted?" the King continued. "Ah, yes. I remember. We were talking about your brother. Eragon. He and I had quite a nice little chat earlier today. We didn't quite see eye to eye, but I'm sure he will come around eventually, just like you did. He just needs a little persuasion…" Galbatorix smirked. "It's funny how you and your brother are so similar. So stubborn. I should have known that Morzan's sons would become Dragon Riders. How stupid I was not to test you before your little escapade," he chuckled. "But I suppose that then you never would have led me to Eragon and the Varden, although the Twins could have gotten him eventually, if he ever made it to the Varden on his own."

Murtagh clenched his hands into fists. "I did not lead you to Eragon," he answered angrily.

"Of course not," Galbatorix agreed placatingly. "You only helped him get to the Varden, where the Twins were. Then they managed to capture you and bring you back here so that you could, in turn, go back and capture him. Which you never did, I might add. I had to rely on those filthy Ra'zac to do what you should have done. But do not worry, Murtagh, Eragon will soon be on our side, one way or another."

Biting back a smart remark, Murtagh laughed inwardly. He knew Eragon would never swear loyalty to the King. Galbatorix didn't even have Saphira. There was no point in having a Rider if he was not a _Dragon_ Rider."

Murtagh looked up to see Galbatorix staring coolly down at him. "You forget I can hear your every thoughts," he goaded. "Let the pieces fall where they may, boy." he said calmly, confidently. Murtagh's spirits fell. Galbatorix obviously had a plan… A plan that probably involved _her._

"Now Murtagh," Galbatorix began. "I might be willing to put this afternoon behind us if you could convince Eragon to join us. You're his older brother, you don't want to see him get hurt do you? He listens to you. We could save everyone a whole lot of trouble if you did. If not…well, that is your decision. And Eragon will be no better off, because he _will_ join us. Willingly, or unwillingly."

Murtagh narrowed his eyes. "I would rather Eragon die than serve you." 

"What a shame," Galbatorix said monotonously. "But would Eragon have _you_ die before he served me. I should expect that he would not want his brother's death hanging over him."

"You wouldn't kill me," Murtagh said, trying to call the King's bluff. "I'm the only Rider you have, and will ever have. You wouldn't risk that."

"See that's where you're wrong," Galbatorix answered swiftly. "You are not the only Rider I will ever have. I will get your brother one way or another, and when the last egg hatches, I shall have that Rider too." The King paused, "So you see Murtagh, you are expendable. If I were you, I would do as I was told."

When Murtagh refused to answer, Galbatorix finally sighed. After a few more moments, he added, "What a pity. Quite unfortunate, really. But if that's how you want it to be…"

Murtagh felt a spasm of pain ripple through his body and fell to his knees. He tried to concentrate on breathing evenly, but it was getting harder and harder. Black spots began to form in his vision, and his hands curled into fists, his own fingernails digging into his skin. As everything faded away, Murtagh could just barely make out the King saying something about _her_…

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Murtagh awoke a few hours later. Groggily, he sat up to find himself on the floor in his own quarters. His head was pounding, and his body ached. Grasping the side of the bed next to him, he pulled himself to his feet and unsteadily walked over to the water basin where he cupped some water in his hands and splashed it onto his face.

Gingerly, he touched his fingers to his face. A shooting pain caused him to pull them away quickly. Groaning, he dipped them back into the cool water, and splashed more onto his face.

_Murtagh?_ Thorn's voice filled Murtagh's head.

_Yeah, I'm here… How long have I been out?_

_About an hour. Any longer and I was getting ready to send your brother in._

"Eragon!" Murtagh exclaimed, a worried fervor running through his voice. _Thorn, get ready!_

_Get ready for what?_

Murtagh didn't answer. Instead, he raced to the door. Cautiously he cracked it open and peered out into the hallway. Finding it empty he ran across the hallway to Eragon's room, where he flung open the door and slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Eragon," he gasped out. "We have to get you out of here!"

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Eragon turned away from the window where he was standing, eyes shining gleefully.

"Murtagh!" he said happily. "You'll never believe what I just saw…" His voice trailed off as his eyes took in Murtagh. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Murtagh said brusquely. "It doesn't matter. We have to get you out of here, out of Uru'baen, right now!"

"No, Murtagh, you don't understand, I saw-"

"No Eragon! You don't understand," Murtagh said harshly. "You have to leave. Now!"

"Murtagh," Eragon began patiently. "Sit down. You don't look so good. Just let me explain wha-"

"Eragon! Would you just listen to me for once in your life?" Murtagh broke in exasperated. "You are going to escape. Now. I'm helping you get out."

"I know you're going to help me get out," Eragon said gently, "but you know as well as I do, probably even better, that I am not going to be able to escape from Uru'baen without _more_ help. Which brings me to what I was trying to tell you when you first arrived. They've finally come! I'm going to be rescued! Just before you got here, I was looking out the window at the crowd moving to and from the castle when I noticed this one person. The way she moved just seemed so familiar," Eragon stared dreamily at the window. "It was Arya, Murtagh. I'd know her anywhere. The way she moved, it was like no other person in the crowd. It is Arya, come to rescue me. I'm sure of it!"

Eragon grinned at Murtagh, sure that he would be excited. But as he watched, Murtagh paled until his skin was a chalky white. A look of horror was fixed upon his face. "Murtagh?" Eragon asked worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"Eragon. We. Have. To. Get. You. Out. Of. Here," Murtagh said, accentuating every word. "_Now!_

"Murtagh. Arya's come to rescue me. I can't leave her behind. What if I escaped but Galbatorix noticed she was here? I can't let her fall into his grasp again! Why, I'd just have to turn around and come right back. I'm not going to leave her here, and I'm not going to leave you either."

"Eragon, you can't save me. Not right now. There's no way. The King will never let me go. But you... You have a chance. You have to take it."

"Murtagh. I'm not going without you. I won't, and you can't make me!" Defiantly he glared at Murtagh. "Why won't you let anyone help you? Why won't you let me help you?"

"Eragon, just let it go. I can't be helped. Galbatorix knows my true name, and unless you get out of here right now, he will learn your true name too!"

"I'm not going! I'm not leaving you or Arya behind!"

"Stop talking about Arya!" Murtagh said, raising his voice. Glancing at the doorway, he quietly hissed, "Forget about her. We have to get you out of here."

Shocked, Eragon could only stare at Murtagh. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally said, "I can't leave Arya here. She's my ally, my friend."

"She's not your friend and she never will be. Just trust me, Eragon. Please," he pleaded, eyes locked on Eragon's, "Just let me help you escape."

"What do you mean she's not my friend?" Eragon said angrily. "Of course she's my friend. Murtagh, I'm worried about you. I think you're hurt. Come sit down for a minute and think rationally."

"Why don't you trust me? What can I say to convince you to leave?"

"Well, you could say that you will go find Arya, and that together, you, her and I will escape-"

"NO!!!" Murtagh shouted, voice livid with rage.

A pounding on the door startled both Eragon and Murtagh. Nervously, Eragon looked at Murtagh who was looking desperately around for a place to hide. Eragon saw the dilemma at once. There was no hiding spot. When Murtagh finally met Eragon's eyes, Eragon could see the fear he was trying to hide in them.

"What are you doing in there?" A gruff voice asked. "Quiet down. Don't make me come in there."

Eragon stood frozen, holding his breath. Murtagh seemed to be willing him to say something, gesturing frantically toward the door.

"Sorry," he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he added more loudly, "I just umm… dropped something. But don't worry! Nothing broke."

Grumbling came from the other side of the door, but they could hear the guard's footsteps receding. Breathing a sigh of relief, Eragon glanced at Murtagh who seemed deep in thought.

Quietly, Eragon walked over to him. "Please, tell me what's wrong Murtagh." Cautiously, he put his hand on Murtagh's shoulder, making him look up in surprise. "I want to help."

Something hardened in Murtagh's eyes. "Eragon, promise me something."

"Sure," Eragon said immediately, "anything."

"If something were to go wrong, and you don't manage to get away, promise me that you will never join Galbatorix because of something he does to me. Even if it means I die. Even if I'm begging you to tell him to stop, even if I tell you to join him, just let me go. Don't agree to anything he says."

"I- I can't promise you that," Eragon answered, uncertainty clouding his eyes.

"I was afraid of that," Murtagh said quietly. Then he added louder, "Let's go."

"I already told you, Murtagh. I'm not going anywhere without you and Arya."

"I was afraid of that too," Murtagh admitted. "But you don't have a choice in the matter."

Drawing into the reserve of magic in his mind, Murtagh quietly uttered a few words and Eragon crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Silently, Murtagh reached over and picked up Eragon. Slinging him over his shoulder, he murmured, "You'll thank me for this someday."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hello again! First off, a special thanks goes out to all who reviewed the last chapter! Your thoughts are greatly appreciated!! Anyway, on to chapter seven. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Seven

Murtagh paused, breathless, in the corridor. Glancing around cautiously, he set Eragon's limp body on the ground and sat down heavily. Cradling his head in his hands, he turned and looked at the unconscious form of his brother. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he really had no idea where to take his brother. Once again, he had acted too rashly. Now he had nowhere to go, and no way of getting there.

Dragging himself back to his feet, he turned to Eragon and picked up his burden, slinging him over his shoulder. He resumed his trudging walk, setting off down the darkened corridor. The torches had not yet been lit, and Murtagh cursed at the darkness, even though it concealed him. Hearing voices, Murtagh came to a halt, and looked around for a place to hide. Stone walls stretched endlessly on both sides, seemingly for miles. Murtagh cursed again. He didn't want to use any more magic than he had to. But in these circumstances, he really couldn't take the chance of some servant telling Galbatorix about his latest escapade. Murtagh waited until the two people got close enough that he could tell that it was a couple young maids. Muttering a few words, they dropped over like flies. Continuing on his way, Murtagh realized his beating from Galbatorix was beginning to take its toll, and that his breathing was become laboured. Each step became heavier, until he finally stumbled.

_What are you doing?_ Thorn asked in his mind. Murtagh ignored him, instead choosing to focus on calming his racing heart rate.

_You tell me to 'be ready', and then you shut your mind to me! Tell me, what do you want me to do?!_ Murtagh could tell Thorn was exasperated by the tone of his voice, but he still did not answer. Silence filled his head. A silence as thick as the night air.

Closing his eyes, Murtagh spoke slowly, _I have to tell him, Thorn. I can't keep going on like this. He has a right to know. And if I tell him, he just might be more willing to leave._

Silence filled Murtagh's mind. Finally, Thorn answered, _Do what you think you have to do. You know I'm always here. It's not like I'm going anywhere._

Murtagh didn't say anything, couldn't say anything.

After a few moments, Murtagh got to his feet, and walked over to where he had dropped Eragon. Whispering a few words, he took a step back, but kept his eyes on Eragon. The boy's eyelids began fluttering, and soon opened. As soon as he saw Murtagh, recognition filled his eyes, and a look of anger crossed his face.

Before Eragon could say anything, Murtagh spoke softly, "We have to find a place to hide. I'm sure Galbatorix has noticed that we're missing and has raised the alarm."

Glaring at Murtagh, Eragon curtly nodded. "Now that you've got the entire castle looking for us, we'll probably be dead by the end of the day, and Arya as well, because they will no doubt find her too."

Grabbing Eragon roughly by the arm, Murtagh briskly set off down the corridor, dragging the younger boy behind him. "I'm doing this for you, you know," he said angrily. "You don't need to be appreciative, but you could try to help a little."

"Well, I never wanted to leave this way," Eragon answered, a dark look clouding his face.

"What did you think you were going to do?! Escape in some great escapade where you outsmart the King, and ride away on a horse while the moon is hidden behind a thick cloud? Or maybe you thought that you would kill Galbatorix before you left. Or maybe you want to kill me, I mean, I am a traitor, aren't I? Maybe you want to kill everyone who works for Galbatorix, just to free them from the oppression. Or maybe you want to rescue everyone under Galbatorix's control, and be touted as a hero throughout the whole nation! It would be the perfect end to the perfect existence of your life, wouldn't it?"

Breaking away from Murtagh's grasp, Eragon stepped back, eyes as wide as saucers. "Well, if I knew that you felt that way, than I would have left a lot earlier," he said angrily. "I'm sorry I've gotten in your way, but you won't have to worry about me anymore." Turning on his heel, he stormed away in the opposite direction that Murtagh had been going. Hearing Murtagh's footsteps following him, he began to run.

Murtagh realized what he had done too late. Following Eragon, he called after him, but the younger boy would not stop, and soon had disappeared from view.

Murtagh tried to keep following him, taking the paths that he thought Eragon would have taken, but he still could not find him. Soon, the corridors became more crowded with nobles and their families, all staring curiously at the frantic Red Rider.

Cautiously, one noble approached, and when he came within an arm's distance, quietly asked, "Do you need help with anything, my lord?"

Spinning around, Murtagh glared at the man, freezing him to the spot in fear. "No," he said tonelessly. Then as the man began to turn around, Murtagh added, "Actually, you wouldn't have happened to notice a boy a few years younger than myself pass by here would you? He's a little shorter than me, with lighter hair. We look quite similar though…"

"You mean Galbatorix's latest prisoner?" The man questioned timidly. Nodding his head, Murtagh saw the man's eyes become frantic. "You mean the prisoner has escaped?!"

Panic coursed through Murtagh. "No! No. He didn't escape," he assured the man.

"Well, have the guards been alerted? We have to alert the guards! There are women and children here!"

"Quiet!" Murtagh hissed. "The guards have been alerted. This mustn't reach anyone else's ears! Why don't you take your family and leave, just as a precautionary measure?" he suggested.

Nodding his thanks, the man turned and hurriedly walked over to a woman and two small children. Murtagh watched as the man grabbed his wife's hand and steered their children towards the door of the castle. Breathing a sigh of relief, Murtagh turned around and continued walking, searching for Eragon.

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Eragon walked wearily around yet another corner. It seemed like he had been trudging, lost, for hours. After having had the time to think about his actions, he now realized that he should never have left Murtagh, no matter how angry he was. He didn't know his way around the castle, let alone the city, should he actually manage to escape. Dejectedly, he leaned against the rough stone wall.

_Saphira?_ Deafening silence.

Cupping his head in his hands, Eragon blinked back tears. He was alone, and had now walked away from the one person who could probably help him.

A few minutes later, Eragon stood up. Murtagh was not the only one who could help him. Arya was somewhere here too. All he had to do was keep walking, and hope that he would meet up with her. Determined that he could find Arya, he renewed his walk.

Coming to the end of another corner, Eragon confidently walked around it and stopped short. There stood Galbatorix, smiling down at him.

"I've been looking for you, Eragon."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hi there! Well, I tried to write this chapter as quick as I could. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Eight

Eragon stared glumly at the hard oak of the table where he was sitting. He could hear Galbatorix talking, droning on and on and on. About Dragon Riders, and how they had a responsibility to uphold. About the dragons themselves. About Alagaesia in general, and what it would be like to rule together. Just Galbatorix, Murtagh, and himself -- and the third Rider if the last egg ever hatched.

Eragon grimaced. The king was still trying to win him over, but he had resolved not to let that happen. The king had no bargaining chips to make him swear loyalty. His dragon was dead, and as for friends, there was no one except Murtagh, and Eragon doubted the king would risk killing off the one Rider he did have control of.

"What is your decision, Eragon?" Galbatorix asked suddenly. "I believe that I have given you quite enough time to think about what you have to do."

Turning his eyes once again towards the king, Eragon simply glared at him as a response, letting the fury in his eyes answer the question.

"Maybe I have not made myself clear enough," Galbatorix said. "You do not have a choice. And if you continue to make foolish decisions and carry on in this manner, than I will have no choice but to punish you."

Eragon let his eyes stay focused on the king, choosing to remain silent.

Galbatorix sighed, and then something in his eyes hardened and a hint of a smile crossed his face. "I must say that I admire your family. First your brother tried to defy me, and now you. But I always get what I want Eragon. Always. And I will get your loyalty too, willingly or unwillingly."

Eragon continued to stare straight ahead, but he finally spoke, slowly, accentuating every word, "I will never swear loyalty to you willingly. So if you want my oath, you are going to have to force me to say it."

A cruel smile twisted Galbatorix's lips. "I wouldn't have expected anything less."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Murtagh raced through the passageways, looking left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eragon. He had been looking for the better part of two hours, and still had not seen his brother. Sighing, Murtagh turned around in the middle of one corridor, and reluctantly gave in to the fact that Eragon could be anywhere.

Murtagh slowly continued down the hallway, heading back towards his room. He had once again ruined everything. A hollow feeling filled him as he realized he might not see his brother again, even though he doubted that Eragon had escaped from the castle. He hadn't realized how nice it was that Eragon was here, even though he could be annoying. How nice it was to have someone to talk to. Because he really hadn't spoken to anyone except Thorn and Galbatorix since he had returned to Uru'Baen.

Murtagh trudged slowly back to his room, dragging his feet across the stone tiles. As he rounded yet another corner, Murtagh caught sight of _her_, the source of all of his trouble, before she quickly ducked into a side room. Disgusted, Murtagh scowled and continued on.

Upon reaching his room, Murtagh sat down beside the window. It was a beautiful night outside, the kind that he used to love before he was confined to the castle. The sun was beginning to set, casting all sorts of brilliant oranges, pinks, and purples throughout the sky. On the horizon, it was already beginning to grow dark, but the night air was still warm. From where he sat with the window open, he couldn't even hear any noise from the city itself, just the soft chirp of crickets, and the low croak of frogs in the king's courtyard.

A loud knock on the door ruined the serenity of the moment. Getting to his feet, Murtagh wandered over to the door and reluctantly opened it.

"King Galbatorix requests your presence in his throne room, Dragon Rider," a young soldier said.

Murtagh stared at the soldier for a moment. Inwardly he cringed, but he showed no outward emotion. Then, ever so slowly, he gave the soldier a curt nod, and forced himself to walk out of his room, and trudge once again towards the throne room, all the while imagining how his feet were wearing down the stone floor beneath him from the many times he had trod upon it.

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**Yes, this chapter was short, but it's really more of a prelude to chapter nine, which is going to be a lot longer. I was going to combine the two, but I think that would make it unbearably long, so I decided to make one short chapter, and one long chapter. But anyway, I would still appreciate hearing what you guys think of the pre-chapter….**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Hi there! Well, I tried to write this chapter as quick as I could, but somehow it still managed to take a lot longer than I had hoped. Anyway, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Nine:

Murtagh walked slowly through the hallways as if in a trance, the way to the king's throne room engrained in his head from the many times he had been there. People passing him would quickly glance at him, and give him a small, obligatory smile. But Murtagh could see the fear and the hate that they hid in their eyes. Like they thought he was some sort of monster. Like he was his father.

Coming to the end of one corridor, Murtagh paused. Two heavy oak doors blocked his path; there was nowhere else to go. Ignoring the sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, Murtagh raised his arm and knocked on one of the doors. Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door and stepped inside.

"Ah Murtagh. Nice of you to join us," King Galbatorix greeted him.

"My lord," Murtagh answered, dipping into a small bow. Glancing around the room, he noticed Eragon sitting across from the king at the table, arms crossed against his chest defiantly.

"Won't you sit down, Murtagh?" The king asked, gesturing towards the chair beside him.

Slowly, Murtagh forced himself to move his feet. Crossing the floor, he could sense Eragon watching him, but he refused to look over. A servant pulled out his chair for him, and he cautiously sat down.

"Care for anything to eat?" Galbatorix questioned, snapping his fingers. A few young servants arrived, carrying trays of food.

"No, no, thank you," Murtagh replied, waving the servants away.

Galbatorix stopped them, offering him a twisted smile. "No appetite Murtagh? But you must surely want to keep up your strength, if not for me, than to help your brother escape."

Murtagh held his breath. Staring down at the table, he tensed himself, waiting for whatever punishment Galbatorix decided to inflict. Instead, he heard the snap of fingers once again, and the servants reappeared, placing a plate of food in front of him.

"Eat," Galbatorix commanded.

Murtagh slowly picked up a fork and knife with trembling hands. Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, he took a piece of meat and stuck it in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow.

"That's better," commended Galbatorix. "Now, I was just talking to your brother about joining us, and I was hoping that you could help me convince him."

Murtagh turned in his chair so that he was facing Eragon. Taking a deep breath, he focused his eyes on a spot just above Eragon's head. "You should really join us, Eragon. We will reunite Alagaesia under one leader, and the Dragon Riders will once again prosper." Murtagh paused, knowing how hollow and insincere his words sounded. "I really would like to be on the same side as you…" he finally added truthfully, meeting Eragon's eyes, hoping he would receive the message.

Eragon gave one slow nod and curtly answered, "I would like that too, but I will never serve your king as long as I live, so I see no way that your wish will be possible."

Inexplicably, Murtagh felt his heart fall, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. This was what he wanted. He didn't want Eragon to be a slave to the king, not like him. But at the same time, he did want it. He wanted it so that he could have someone to talk to, someone to confide in, someone he could trust, and who trusted him.

A cold hand that gripped his shoulder tightly brought him out of his thoughts. "Murtagh, I think that it is time for you to leave," Galbatorix told him. "I would like you to go find Arya, and bring her here."

Murtagh stared at the king, eyes wide with fear shining brightly through. "Please, no," he whispered, more to himself than Galbatorix.

At the same time, he heard Eragon say loudly, "Leave Arya alone, this is between you and me."

Galbatorix chuckled. "No, I think that you will find that it really involves everyone present in this room, plus your dear, sweet Arya. You see, I gave you the choice of offering me your allegiance, but you refused, so you left me with no choice." Galbatorix stopped laughing and glanced over at Murtagh. "Why haven't you left yet?"

"Please, my lord," Murtagh helplessly pled. "Don't make me go get Arya. I will do anything, _anything_, else. Whatever it is that pleases you. But please do not make me bring Arya here."

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Eragon watched as Galbatorix leaned toward Murtagh, eyes gleaming. Putting his hand on Murtagh's shoulder, he spoke quietly into the older boy's ear. Catching Eragon's eye he smiled wickedly. Eragon offered him a quick look of indifference before returning his view to Murtagh, who was sitting rigidly with his hands clenched in tight fists, eyes filled with uncertainty. Abruptly, he shoved away from the table and strode briskly towards the door. As he opened the door, he turned around and looked Eragon straight in the eyes. Within them, Eragon could see pain, and despair, and just before Murtagh walked out, he mouthed the words, "I'm sorry".

Eragon sat in his chair, sensing the sudden quietness of the room. He turned his attention back to Galbatorix, sizing him up, wondering what he was thinking about. The king stared at him, unflinchingly.

"What did you say to Murtagh?" Eragon finally asked.

Galbatorix allowed himself a small smile. "I simply reminded him of his place. He needed a little persuasion to do what I asked of him, so I gave it to him."

"You mean you commanded him by using his true name," Eragon accused.

"My, my. You sure catch on quickly. But I would not say I commanded him to go get her. I simply told him to go find Arya and bring her here, or to deal with the alternative."

Eragon pounded his fist on the table. "It's the same thing," he said angrily before vowing," I will never fall under your control!"

"Well, see about that," Galbatorix said cryptically, as a knock on the outside door interrupted him. "We'll, just see about that."

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Eragon watched as Murtagh re-entered the room, falling once again into a bow before the king. Following Murtagh was Arya. Just as he remembered her, yet looking more tired than before. For a moment he considered what he must look like, but then dismissed the thought. His eyes followed Arya as she gave a curtsy to the king, so small and so fast that he barely noticed it.

Eragon tried to catch Arya's eye, but she avoided his, choosing to look at Murtagh instead, who was avoiding her gaze. Eragon looked at her confused. Everything about Arya suddenly seemed different, her actions off. From Galbatorix casually telling Murtagh to go get Arya, as if he did it everyday, to her bowing before the king, and not meeting his eyes.

Eragon processed everything, but could not figure out what was going on. He sat confused, alternately looking at Murtagh and Arya, neither of whom met his gaze. Finally he looked at Galbatorix. The king sat watching him patiently, a twisted smile fixed on his lips.

"Well, Eragon," Galbatorix said. "This is your last chance to swear allegiance to me. The last chance that I will give you. So choose wisely."

Eragon looked at Murtagh, then looked at Arya. Arya sat with a haunted expression on her face, but Murtagh finally turned towards him, and shook his head ever so slightly.

Galbatorix suddenly turned toward Murtagh. "Why must you do everything in your power to disobey me?" he quietly asked. As quick as lightning, he seized a handful of Murtagh's hair, and jerked his head back. Exposing Murtagh's neck, he pressed a dagger against it. Facing Eragon again he spoke slowly, "I assume that your answer has not changed?" When Eragon nodded his head, the king grinned wickedly and said, "Then let me show you which path you have chosen."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Hi there

**Author's Note: Hello again! Sorry about the wait. I had the chapter written, but didn't like how it turned out. I think this one is much better! Once again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, as all comments are appreciated. Please continue to let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon,**__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Ten:

Murtagh squeezed his eyes shut, his heart beating wildly. This was not happening. Yet, without even opening his eyes he could feel the cool metal of the dagger pressed up against his neck. He sat rigid and unmoving, barely breathing for fear of what might happen if he did. Seconds passed and he opened his eyes to see three other people watching him. Eragon, his eyes filled with unmasked panic; Arya, with concern; and Galbatorix, eyes mad, but calm. The king leaned in close to Murtagh, and Murtagh could feel the warm breath on his face.

"Scared, Murtagh?" The king whispered in his ear.

Murtagh did not reply, knowing that it was better to stay silent in these situations.

Galbatorix laughed, pressing the dagger harder onto Murtagh's neck.

Murtagh winced slightly, feeling the blade prick his neck. His head was beginning to ache where the king was grasping his hair, but he didn't dare to move.

"Let Murtagh go," Eragon demanded. "He didn't do anything!"

Galbatorix laughed again, and pressed the dagger even more onto Murtagh's neck. Murtagh gritted his teeth, and tried to relax unsuccessfully. The blade was biting into his neck, and he could feel something warm trickling down his neck from where the blade was pressed.

Murtagh sat silently. He held his breath, daring not even to breathe, lest the king be displeased. The blade dug into him so that it was the only thing he could think about. Eragon, Arya, even Galbatorix were forgotten as he became conscious only of the knife at his neck. Weakly he forced his thoughts away from it.

_Thorn?_ he called out.

_Murtagh, what's going on?_ Thorn demanded angrily. _You can't keep blocking me from your mind. I know you like your 'sanctuary', but I believe that I still have a right to be able to communicate with you!_

_I'm scared Thorn,_ Murtagh whispered mentally. _I think my time has come to leave this world-_

_What are you talking about?_ Thorn interrupted. _Where are you? What has the king d-_

The conversation ended abruptly. Murtagh risked looking up at the king who stood over him with a condescending look on his face.

_You do not speak unless I tell you to speak._ Murtagh heard the harsh voice resonating inside his head. Even though the king had been speaking to him in his mind for a while, he could never get used to the coldness of it. It left him feeling hollow and empty.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Murtagh, the dagger biting further into his neck with each word.

"I am too," Galbatorix answered. "But you, Morzan's son, have crossed me one too many times. I have no patience for your insolence when anyone else in this land would love to be in your position. You however," he accused, "have done everything in your power to defy me, and so I shall have to make an example of you to your brother."

Murtagh twisted in his chair, trying to face Eragon. "D-", he managed to say, but before he could say anything else, he felt an intense pain and everything went black.

--

Eragon heard the gasp of Arya, and then noticed the acute silence that followed. He felt numb. Suddenly, he was very cold. He stared in shock at the sight of Murtagh, slumped over in his chair. The king stood a few feet away, wiping the blade of his dagger on the cloth that was draped over the table.

He swallowed, but found that it was hard. A lump had formed in his throat. Something blurred his vision, and he hastily wiped his eyes.

A snap of Galbatorix's fingers brought a few guards into the room.

"Deal with him," The king commanded, looking pointedly at the motionless figure of the Red Rider.

The guards stood for a moment, observing the scene. Slowly, Galbatorix walked over to them. He paused for a moment before them, coldly addressing them where to take him. Nodding furiously, they quickly walked over to the prone figure and picked up the limp body. A minute later they left the room, shutting the door with a sense of finality behind them.

"You see Eragon," Galbatorix said quietly a moment later. "I am not afraid to make sacrifices to get what I want. If people get hurt in the process, then that is the way that it was meant to be. People of power are put in their positions for a reason. I am here for a reason, as are you. Everything has a purpose, and the way that I see it, you are here to serve me. It is your purpose."

Eragon gaped at the king. "I will never serve you," he said, voice trembling. "Especially not after what you just did."

Galbatorix smiled cunningly. "I always get what I want Eragon. Just remember that. Things may not be as they seem, and people may not be what they are. But deep down, every person is the same. They will stop at nothing to achieve something, to get what they want. It is in human nature."

Eragon stared at Galbatorix. "No matter what you say, you will never change my decision, or my opinion of you. I will not be swayed by your words."

"No?" Galbatorix challenged. "Well, what if something happened to Arya? What then, Shadeslayer? Would you risk someone else's life? Because it does not seem to me like you are in such a position that you should choose who lives and dies."

"I'm not the one who just-"

"What if I said to you," the king carried on loudly, "that you call your dragon and tell her to come here, or I will kill your elf friend? That way, it is your choice whether she lives or dies."

"Then I would answer that Arya would be willing to die for the cause of freedom," Eragon said cautiously. "I am not in the position to judge who should live and who should die, but I know that Arya would rather die than see Saphira fall into your trap."

Galbatorix shrugged nonchalantly. "It is your choice, Eragon, but just remember, it is you that has to live with the consequences. Be forewarned, I shall give you one day to make contact with your dragon and an additional day for her to arrive here. If she is not here by nightfall on the second day, then Arya will die."

The king snapped his fingers. Immediately, the two guards reentered the room and stood at attention. "Show our guest to his new quarters," the king said pleasurably.

As the two guards grabbed Eragon by the arms and led him from the room, he couldn't help but look back one last time and see Galbatorix lean toward Arya, a smile on his face.

**Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Hello again! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I got a whole bunch of them for the last chapter! They are greatly appreciated. Anyway, here is the next chapter. It is quite short, but enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon, **__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Eleven:

Eragon stared unseeingly at the wall of the cell where he had been placed. It was dank and musty in the cell, a stark contrast to the room he had been placed in at first. Heaving a deep sigh, he unsuccessfully tried to repress the shudder that ran throughout his body. Whether it was from the cold or what had happened, he did not know.

Closing his eyes, Eragon felt a tear slip out from beneath his eyelid. Hastily, he wiped it away. The groans and cries of pain that emanated from the other prisoners in the dungeon became muffled in his brain. Silence filled his mind. He heard nothing, felt nothing.

Subconsciously, his thoughts returned to Murtagh. He tried to avoid them, but it was to no avail. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Murtagh. Or saw the king smiling wickedly at him. Eragon did not know why the death of Murtagh was so hard to bear. Had he not suggested at one point in time that he could kill Murtagh? It seemed like such a long time ago…

Eragon hunched over the cold dirt floor. He did not want to think about Murtagh anymore, did not want to think about anything anymore. Yet the king's words echoed in his head. He did not want to feel like this again, did not want to let Arya die. But he could not bring himself to call out to Saphira. The reasonable part of him knew that it was because he did not want Saphira to get caught, but another side of him was reminded that the last time he had tried to contact Saphira, all he had received in return was silence.

Silence. It seemed that was about all he heard these days. Sighing again, Eragon looked around his cell. After he had been led away from the throne room, he had been led down flights of stairs until he had reached the bottommost dungeon. Once inside, the guards had led him past rows of cells containing other unfortunate souls until they had reached one of the farthest cells. Locking him inside, he had not seen a person since, although the moans of the captive still resonated quietly in his mind. The cell itself was quite small. The only light came from a torch outside of the cell in the hallway that he had been led down. A bit of straw was piled in one corner but he did not approach it, choosing instead to sit on the earthen floor and stare at the stone walls encompassing the cell.

Eragon stared vacantly into space, idly counting the stones placed in the walls. Nothing had worked out as it had been planned. He had no idea where Saphira was, or what had happened to Katrina and Roran. But at the thought of Roran, Eragon completely broke down. He had avoided thinking about his cousin, who was really more like a close brother, just as he had avoided thinking about Saphira. But sitting alone in his cell, he had nothing else to occupy his thoughts, and they constantly returned to his family and friends.

A sob escaped Eragon as he thought of how he had not only lost his real brother, Murtagh, but also his cousin, Roran. Tears streamed down his face as he thought of all the moments he would never get to share with his brothers. Sobs racked his body, leaving trails on his face like a comet's path in the sky. Eragon turned so that he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling through tear-stained eyes. All he could see was darkness. Everything had turned out wrong.

--

Hours later, Eragon awoke without even realizing he had fallen asleep. Within a moment, he soon began reliving the horrors of the past few days and nearly broke down again. After taking a few minutes to calm himself, Eragon summoned his courage and tried reaching out to Saphira.

_Saphira?_

Silence.

_Saphira? Please answer! _

Silence.

_Where are you?_ Eragon sobbed. _Why won't you answer? I need you._

Silence filled Eragon's mind. As he drifted back to sleep, he imagined he was flying with Saphira, high above the clouds in the sunny sky.

--

Galbatorix stood in his throne room before Arya.

"Do you understand what you are to do?" The King questioned the elf.

"Yes," Arya quietly replied.

"I trust you will not fail me."

"Have I ever before, my lord?" Arya asked, her eyes hard and cold, full of disgust.

Galbatorix narrowed his eyes, but let her remark pass. "Return as soon as you have finished," he commanded.

"As always," Arya replied before giving a quick curtsey, and flitting out the doorway.

Galbatorix smirked. Things were finally beginning to fall into place.

--

**Yes, this was pretty much a filler chapter, and it is really short. But it is important for the next chapter, which should be up within a few days (not a few months like the last update)! And I promise it will be longer!**

**Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hey there! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the filler chapter. Now onward to the (hopefully) good stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon, **__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Twelve:

A few days later, Eragon was summoned before King Galbatorix. He slowly trudged up the many stairs out of the dungeon and down a series of hallways escorted by two guards. More were posted at the doors of every entrance and exit. Eragon inwardly laughed. The king had made it quite clear to him that there was no way of escaping from Uru'Baen, but had posted excessive amounts of guards in case he did try something. His humor left him though, as he neared the king's throne room.

Upon reaching the heavy doors, the guards pounded on the doors twice before opening them and pushing Eragon inside. As he stumbled forward, the doors were closed behind him, shutting him inside.

"Eragon," Galbatorix began. "How are you today?"

Eragon stared incredulously at the king. Here he was, not even a week after one of his friends had been killed and the other captured, and he was being asked how he was? Eragon snorted derisively.

"Come, come," the King commanded, motioning Eragon to move closer. "Sit down."

Eragon cautiously walked forward, suspicious of the king. He seemed to be in a good mood. Too good of a mood, Eragon thought, considering he had disposed of his most powerful weapon. Sitting down, Eragon stared impassively at Galbatorix.

"Were you able to contact your dragon?" Galbatorix questioned.

"No," Eragon replied truthfully, "and even if I were, I would tell her to stay as far away from this castle as she could."

Galbatorix's eyes looked daggers at Eragon. "You lie," he simply stated. "We both know that dragons and their riders cannot bear to be away from each other. There is no way that your dragon would stay away if she knew that you were here. But," the king continued on, "luckily for you, Arya has decided to take a little trip and will not return for quite some time."

Galbatorix laughed as he saw horror fill Eragon's eyes.

"Do not worry, Shadeslayer, your love shall return, and when she does," his eyes glinted maliciously, "you two shall be reunited. If only for a short time."

Eragon could only blink in response. He tried masking his horror at what was happening, but could not, and knew the king would see right through it anyway.

"You murderer!" Eragon hissed.

"Now, now," Galbatorix began. His eyes suddenly turned dark. "Do not think that I forgot about our deal. You failed to call your dragon here. Just because Arya is not here does not mean that someone else cannot be substituted for her. In fact, I really did not want her to die. She can be quite useful, you know."

"What have you-" Eragon stopped abruptly midsentence. Someone had just been led into the room. Someone he had not expected to see.

Roran.

A million thoughts flew through Eragon's mind. Tears filled his eyes. Roran was alive. His face was lined with dirt and his arms were laced with bruises and cuts, but it was still Roran. Eragon watched as a soldier led Roran to Galbatorix where he was forced to his knees. His wrists were bound in shackles, and his hair hung in his face. Turning to Eragon, Roran stared at his cousin and Eragon could see the pain, but also defiance, reflecting in his eyes.

A page walked up and cleared his throat. Pulling out a scroll he read to Galbatorix, "Before you stands Roran Stronghammer, Garrowsson. He is charged with the following offenses: murdering state soldiers; public mischief; unlawfully commandeering a ship while being a fugitive of the state; and willingly defying his lordship, King Galbatorix, ruler of Alagaesia. The aforementioned crimes are considered by the state to be treasonous, and therefore constitute the punishment of death by hanging." Having clearly finished with his speech, the page bowed graciously to the king and left.

"Roran Stronghammer." The king played with the name on his lips. "Roran Stronghammer. Might I ask how you got such a name?"

"Aye, you may ask but I will not tell," Roran replied. "I do not answer to you."

Something hardened in the King's face. "You have much cheek, Roran Stronghammer. But we will see who is laughing when you are at the gallows."

"No!" Eragon whispered. "No!" he said stronger. He would not lose Roran, his cousin, brother and friend. He had put Roran through so much pain losing his father, and had already lost him once. He would not lose him again.

"Silence Eragon," Galbatorix commanded. "Your insolence has caused this. In addition, Roran has committed crimes punishable by death, and he shall be held accountable for his actions. In fact, I believe that he shall be made to show the public what happens to traitors. There shall be a public hearing, and then Roran Stronghammer, you will be put to death."

Roran spat at the king. "I would rather die than serve you."

"You are much like your cousin," Galbatorix commented. "But," he continued staring pointedly at Eragon, "some people do not have a choice in the matter." Snapping his fingers, a guard reappeared in the room. "You may return him to his cell," Galbatorix said, motioning toward Roran.

As Roran was about to leave the room Galbatorix called out to him. "Enjoy your last day alive, Stronghammer. For tomorrow you face the gallows."

Eragon watched as Roran left the room. His eyes were hollow and empty. Lifelessly, he stared at the door that had just closed. He felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. He turned his horrified eyes on the king.

"Would you kill everyone I care about?" He asked quietly.

Galbatorix laughed. "Eragon, you must stop deluding yourself with such beliefs. In reality, you care for no one but yourself and your dragon. You may think that you care about others, but it is insincere, and one day you will find out the truth. People do not care about you; they are not truthful. They lie and cheat to get what they want. Take for example your cousin Roran. Was he not mad at you for killing his father, for getting him into this mess? Really, it is your fault that he is in this predicament. Forcing the entire village to go find the Varden, a lost cause. I must say that he has a lot of strength to lead them, and that if it was under any other circumstances, I may have been able to use him as a soldier in my army. But seeing as how you two are related, and I have much experience with your other brother as well, I know how you think, and how stubborn you are. And if Roran is anything like you, I would soon have to deal with him again, which is why I would rather deal with him now. But as I was saying, Roran was mad at you. Do you really think that he could forgive you so easily? He used you Eragon. He used you to get his beloved Katrina back. And now that you have failed, he has no use for you."

Eragon gritted his teeth. "That is not true! Roran is my brother." Abruptly, Eragon stopped talking, no longer feeling that he had to disclose anything to Galbatorix. After all, he had nothing to prove. He did not have to tell the king anything.

Galbatorix chuckled as if he knew Eragon's thoughts. Still smiling, he snapped his fingers and a servant appeared in the room. After whispering some words to her, the girl left and came back within a moment with two goblets. After giving one to the king, the girl placed the other in front of Eragon. Then, after curtseying to both men, she slipped quietly out of the room.

"To your family," Galbatorix toasted, raising his glass. "For they never cease to amaze me in all of their intricacies."

Eragon watched as Galbatorix took a small sip. He refused to pick up his own goblet. Somehow he felt it would be like drinking to Roran's death. Since he had not and would not accept Roran's death, he refused to drink.

Then guiltily, he remembered witnessing the death of Murtagh. Murtagh was already dead and gone. Eragon remembered back in Tronjheim when Murtagh had been captured and everyone thought he had been killed. At that point, Eragon had not allowed himself to mourn the death of his friend. Ajihad had also died, and his death had carried far more significance. Only privately had Eragon been able to mourn. Now, his hand reached for the goblet, and after glancing furtively at the king and muttering a few words that Oromis had taught him to check for poisonous substances, he threw back his head and drained the contents of the glass. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he glared heartily at the king.

"One day I will avenge you the death of Murtagh, and the death of Hrothgar, which I blame on you," Eragon spat out. "I hold you accountable for the deaths of countless lives, including my father Garrow, and Brom. Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal, I shall make you pay for all the lives that you have taken."

Galbatorix shook his head slightly as if amused by Eragon. "One day you will see that I am right, Eragon. I just hope that you figure it out before it is too late."

"Too late?!" Eragon laughed hysterically. "Too late for what? You have already killed one of my brothers and are about to kill the other one. You had my uncle murdered by some of your minions, and you captured Arya. What else is there left to happen? Murder Arya, capture Nasuada and King Orrin and kill them too?"

The king of Alagaesia stared impassively at Eragon, enduring his tirade. When Eragon paused to take a breath, Galbatorix cut in. "It is your fault that everyone is suffering. If you were to join me, we could unite Alagaesia and the surrounding lands and races under one banner. The dragons and dragonriders would rise again." He leaned forward toward Eragon. "Just think Eragon. Think of the power. Together we could rule peacefully with no more wars. The power would lie in the hands of the people, not of the elves, the dwarves or the rebels. There would be no turmoil, no grief. Everyone would be united together, as one."

"You're mad," Eragon stated. "The power would not rest in the hands of the people. It would rest solely in your hands, and your hands alone. You mean to eradicate the other races," he accused. "Would you hunt them down? Because that is not what I would call united under one banner. You are insane-" Eragon faltered as he saw Galbatorix glower and rise. Within a second, Eragon was flying through the air. He hit the far wall with a dull thud and moaned quietly as he fell to the ground.

"Insane am I?" Galbatorix questioned, stalking toward Eragon. "I should think that if I were insane and truly mad I would not hold the power that I do right now. If I were to wish it, I could kill you right here with a single thought in my mind," he hissed. "If I were insane, how could I do that? If I were insane, how could I do this?"

Eragon tried to avoid Galbatorix but found he could not move. He struggled against the hands that closed around his neck and pushed him against the wall. Assailed by magic and physical force, he felt himself lifted a few feet off the ground. Spluttering and choking for breath, Eragon found himself mere inches from Galbatorix's face.

"Do I look insane to you?" He whispered to Eragon, releasing the magic and his grip on Eragon's neck.

Eragon fell to the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his throat. Dots of black and purple swam in his vision as he tried to slow his frantically beating heart. He looked up to see Galbatorix talking to the pair of guards that had led him into the throne room. After a moment, they marched over to Eragon and seized him roughly by the arms, dragging him to his feet. Eragon could only muster enough strength to weakly try to jerk his arm free. Dragging him toward the door, the guards stopped as they heard their king call out.

"And Eragon," Galbatorix said. "Just remember, you can change all of this if you so choose. Roran does not have to die tomorrow. Think about it overnight, for tomorrow I shall need your answer."

After Galbatorix had finished speaking, the guards once again roughly began dragging Eragon through the doors, leading him down ever darker hallways and corridors until they had reached the dungeon and his cell, where only the faintest of light could be seen.

--

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	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hi there! Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! It is greatly appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon, **__**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Thirteen:

Eragon could not sleep at all that night. He sat in the darkness of his cell, his mind whirling, trying to come up with ways of escaping and rescuing Roran. Magic was out of the question as Galbatorix had made sure he could not use any, and although he was more elf-like now in appearance and strength, not even that could help him. So Eragon sat in the dungeon, listening to the cries of misery that the other prisoners around him made.

It was late into the middle of the night when Eragon seriously began to contemplate Galbatorix's offer. The king had said that he only wanted to unite Alagaesia under one banner, hadn't he? He said there would be no more fighting, no more wars. And Roran would be saved. A lot of lives would be saved. Eragon shoved back his hair from his face, blinking his tired eyes.

No more fighting. No more wars.

Eragon shook his head violently, trying to clear it. But the more he thought about it, the less it started to make sense why the Varden was fighting Galbatorix. Why not call a truce? Why not end the fighting? Why not end the loss of life? Things could not get that much worse under Galbatorix than they already were. Things could only improve, couldn't they? Wouldn't they?

_Don't swear loyalty to Galbatorix, no matter what he does or says… Don't agree to anything he says…_ Murtagh's words drifted through Eragon's mind. Eragon gripped his hair in his hands. What was he supposed to do? Be the cause of the suffering everyone had to endure? Let Roran die?

Slowly, the minutes of the night ticked by. Eragon grew more and more agitated with each passing hour. He didn't know what to do. The lack of sleep was making his brain muddled, and the coldness of the dungeon caused him to shake violently. The groans and cries of the other prisoners seemed to become magnified in his head. Soon, it seemed to him that it was not only the prisoners in the dungeon crying out, but every single person in the world. Eragon cursed his destiny. Cursed Saphira for hatching for him. Cursed himself for getting captured. Cursed his friends for not rescuing him. Cursed Murtagh for telling him to never swear allegiance to Galbatorix and giving him the choice he was now faced with.

To swear allegiance, or not swear allegiance. For surely, Eragon knew, if he did not consent his allegiance soon it would be the death of him. Crying out in frustration, Eragon realized what he had to do. The decision that was never really his to make loomed over him like a stormy cloud. Tears spilled from Eragon's eyes like falling rain, and they continued to fall, flooding his face until he could cry no more.

Alone in his cell, Eragon curled into a small ball, and as his breathing finally began to return to normal and his draws for breath became less strenuous, his eyes closed and he drifted towards darkness.

--

Roran sat in a different part of the dungeon in a larger cell with two other men. His companions had not been very kind since his arrival and kept to themselves, although it was not hard to deduce from their shallow, white sunken faces that they had been imprisoned for a long time. Currently they were sleeping, but even within their sleep they did not seem content; their faces were contorted with fear from nightmares and they occasionally cried out.

Roran had gotten quite used to the screams and cries of agony from the prisoners around him. Really, he had become used to anguish when he led the whole village of Carvahall to the Varden. And then on the Burning Plains… Never had Roran imagined that he would see misery of that proportion.

He settled back against the stone wall of the cell, attempting to become comfortable. If only Katrina were here… No. He did not really wish that Katrina was here, merely wished to see her face one last time. Yet as he wished it, Roran knew that it was impossible. He would never see Katrina's radiant face again. Never see it light up in a smile caused by his appearance. Clasping his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling, Roran wished to the gods that Katrina would be kept safe, that Eragon's dragon would keep her safe.

Roran closed his eyes momentarily, replaying the horrid scene in his mind. As soon as he, Eragon and Saphira had reached Helgrind it was as if he had lost his mind. He remembered his rage at Katrina's captors and jumping off Saphira's back before she had even landed. He had yelled and screamed for the Ra'zac to come and fight, had broken away from Eragon's carefully thought out plan. Soon the place had been swarming with the creatures, but he had left Eragon's side in search of Katrina. He found her chained to the wall, pale and semi-conscious, murmuring things in her dream-like state. Driven by adrenaline and his fierce anger, he killed two of the creatures around her and hacked off the chains that bound her to the mountain with his hammer. He remembered the wind screaming past his ears as he rushed back to Eragon and Saphira with Katrina slung over his shoulder. He remembered his dismay upon reaching the place were he had left them and seeing it overcome by the creatures. Yet still, determined to keep Katrina safe, he had slashed his way through the creatures until he reached Saphira who allowed him to quickly but gently place Katrina in the saddle that he and Eragon had rode on. Yelling to Eragon that he had Katrina and that they could leave, he saw his cousin surrounded by the creatures and watched them strike him down. He remembered the rage that he felt and the yell that he gave as he jumped off of Saphira's back, heading for Eragon who lay unmoving on the ground. The creatures soon noticed him and he found himself surrounded. As he searched for a way out, he noticed Saphira taking flight, Katrina still on her back. As the mighty dragon took to the air, the Ra'zac had grabbed Eragon's unconscious form as if he was bait to lure Saphira back to the ground. Saphira would not return however, and as she flew away her voice called to Roran.

_Eragon's nestmate_, Saphira's voice reached out to him. _Tell Eragon I will-_

Roran grimaced, trying to remember what Saphira had said, but everything after that was dark and hazy. He had no idea how long it had been since he had been captured, but he guessed it to be around a fortnight. And tomorrow it would all end.

Roran was not afraid of death. He blamed no one for what was to happen to him tomorrow. He knew his father would be proud of him for defending the family's honour. The only thing he was afraid of was what would become of Katrina.

Slowly, Roran allowed his eyes to close, the light from the torch in the corridor never completely leaving his sight.

--

Drums were being beaten slowly, methodically. The rhythm pounded into Roran's head as he stood before the crowd in the centre of the market place in Uru'baen. He stood on a wooden platform with his hands tied behind his back. His feet were in shackles, but he stood proudly, still defiant.

"Roran Stronghammer," he heard one of the members of the king's court read aloud from a scroll. The man's voice was lost to Roran for a few moments as he read to the crowd Roran's list of crimes. "…stealing a ship…. murdering state guards… all considered treasonous by our lawful state…. Hereforth condemned to death by hanging," the man finally concluded, rolling up the scroll.

Roran was led by two guards up some stairs to another, smaller platform. Immediately, Roran noticed how the floor on this platform was hinged. He guessed that as soon as the order was given, the floor would drop beneath his feet, and he himself would fall into the void. He stared down at it in contemplation.

A jerk on his arm brought him back to reality. Rough hands forced a noose around his neck, and the shackles were removed from his feet. His hands, however, remained bound. Standing there, Roran looked out at the crowd. Some people were mocking him while others cheered and jeered. Most avoided his gaze if it could be helped and stared toward the ground. Mothers covered their children's eyes, trying to protect them from the awful sight.

Roran turned his head to the left and noticed a covered pavilion. Inside he could make out the tall, regal figure of King Galbatorix standing in the centre. Knowing that he had the crowd's attention on himself, Roran spat in the king's direction in one last act of defiance. He could just make out the smirk on Galbatorix's face as the king turned to address the person standing next to him. Roran squinted his eyes in the bright sunshine and could just see that the person next to the king was Eragon. His cousin was flanked on either side by a guard, and he stood with his head down and shoulders bowed. Eragon did not make eye contact with him.

Roran returned his gaze to the crowd, and then looked up into the bright blue sky. It was really a beautiful day. White fluffy clouds floated by slowly, as if in no hurry to pass across the sky. He wondered how Katrina was and if she was looking up into the sky too, wherever she was. Sadly, he returned his gaze back to the ground, back to reality. Please take care of Katrina, Roran pleaded to the gods. Then he closed his eyes and waited for the ground to fall away beneath his feet.

--

Eragon stood beside Galbatorix, his eyes staring at the wooden boards beneath their feet. Galbatorix bent toward him and whispered in his ear, "Still willing to have your cousin killed?"

Eragon said nothing. He pressed his lips firmly together. Everything in his head was screaming at him to call out and stop the whole thing. All it would take would be a few simple words in the Ancient Language arranging his allegiance to Galbatorix, making him the king's slave forever. But he could not do it. He could not betray the Varden and all that he had worked so hard for. He just prayed that Roran would understand.

"Then prepare to watch him die, Eragon."

Eragon watched, powerless to his will, as Galbatorix raised his arm. He knew that once it dropped the floor beneath Roran's feet would drop too, and his last remaining family member would die. His throat was tight; it felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. And then it happened.

As if in slow motion, Eragon watched as Galbatorix's arm began its descent downward. He heard a collective gasp rise from the assembled crowd above the crying of babies and wailing of children. He watched as Roran fell.

Eragon struggled violently against the guards that held his arms in vice-like grips. "Let me go! Let me go!" Eragon screamed. He saw Galbatorix out of the corner of his eye give a slight shake of his head, and the hands on his arms tightened their grip even more.

Tears leaked out of Eragon's eyes, but he did not care who saw. He sank to his knees, but the guards' hands held him suspended in mid-air. Sobs racked his entire body. He, Eragon, had been the cause of the deaths of his entire family.

"I'm sorry, Roran. I'm sorry!" Eragon sobbed to himself. A coldness overcame him that not even the heat of midday could conquer. He shuddered and shivered as the crowd slowly began to disperse.

Galbatorix walked over to the guards watching Eragon. "You may return Eragon to his cell," he addressed them curtly. Allowing himself one last satisfied glance at the fallen Rider, he turned and walked over to the man who was bearing Roran's body.

"What shall I do with the body, sire?" The man asked Galbatorix, stooping into a bow.

Galbatorix stared at the man a moment. "Burn the body," he said loudly, and then he turned and walked away without a glance back at either Eragon or his cousin.

--

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	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Thanks to the reviewers! You guys make my day!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon**_**, **_**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Fourteen:

Eragon paced around his cell, restless. Two days had passed since Roran had been killed, and he still could not force himself to believe that Roran was actually gone and that he would never see his cousin again. Banging his fists on the dirt walls, Eragon cried out in frustration. Since being returned to his cell he had not seen a living person except for the guard who brought his meagre rations to him twice a day. Stalking back to where he usually sat on the opposite side of the cell, Eragon grabbed the flask containing water and took a sip. The water was warm, but refreshing in the dirtiness of the dungeon. Eragon slowly tipped the bottle to the side and watched as the water trickled onto his fingertips and down toward the earthen floor.

A sharp tapping on the bars of Eragon's cell caused him to look up. Two guards stood there, staring down at him impassively. "Ter yer feet", the older one ordered Eragon. "Ye've been summoned before the King". Wearily, Eragon stood up. There was no point in resisting. If he did not get up, the guards would merely enter the cell and drag him to his feet. The younger of the two approached the door to the cell with the keys grasped tightly between his fingers. As he opened the door Eragon met his gaze and was surprised to see sympathy in the young man's face.

Slowly the trio made their way to the throne room. Outside the older guard banged heavily on the door with his fist and thrust Eragon within as soon as he had opened it. The resounding clang of the door shutting behind him echoed in Eragon's mind long after it had finished. Slowly making his way forward, Eragon cautiously looked around for Galbatorix. The king was nowhere to be seen. Confused, Eragon stood in the centre of the room for a moment before walking over to the long table positioned in the centre of the room. Slowly Eragon made his way over to where Murtagh would have sat at Galbatorix's right hand. Crumbs lay on the table in his spot, as if someone had just finished eating. Eragon grimaced as he realized that the king must have already found another person to take Murtagh's place. Just as Eragon wiped away the crumbs angrily with his hand the door banged open and Galbatorix strode in, giving orders to a short man in a soldier's uniform following closely behind him.

"And tell them that if I find out one person was left alive in that village or escaped, I will personally have that whole section of the army put in jail until they rot away. Do you understand?!" Galbatorix thundered at the man. The man quickly nodded his head and bowed stiffly. "Well what are you waiting for, get on with it man!" Galbatorix commanded. Nodding furiously, the man saluted the king and quickly turned on his heel and fled the room.

Eragon watched, his hand frozen on the table, as Galbatorix took a deep breath and massaged his temple. Ever so slowly the king turned to Eragon. "Your little friends are becoming quite unruly," he intoned. "As a result, a village that I've just learned to have harboured fugitives shall be attacked. Furthermore, the latest attack that the Varden staged on one of my ships shall not go unpunished." Pausing for a breath, Galbatorix noticed where Eragon was standing and his eyes lit up. "Yes, I believe I may have found a replacement for your brother. He's not much older than Murtagh was, and is quite eager to help his king. He would make an excellent leader of my army."

"Murtagh never wanted to serve you," Eragon spat out. "If you had not forced him-"

"Forced him?" Galbatorix laughed. "I did not _force_ Murtagh to do anything. Why, he was practically begging me to forgive him for his insolence. But I suppose a few weeks of torture might do that to anyone. He freely chose to pledge his allegiance to me."

Eragon, not even conscious of his actions, leapt at Galbatorix. Before he could get even a few feet though, Galbatorix raised his arm and Eragon abruptly stopped. "Foolish boy," the king scolded. "Why do you continue to do this to yourself? You must learn that no one's life is more important than your own. All that should matter to you is your life and your dragon's. I am slightly confused as to why you care so much about these, these people who have betrayed you and left you for dead."

"You would never understand," Eragon growled. "I could not possibly even try to explain it to you."

Galbatorix grinned at Eragon. "Then I suppose I will just have to find out for myself." At once, Eragon felt a strong force assailing his mind. He frantically tried to throw up his barriers, concentrating on the stone wall behind Galbatorix, as sweat poured off his face. The probe dug mercilessly into the wall, chipping away at it, crumbling it piece by piece meticulously. Eragon realized with horror that Galbatorix was going to be inside his mind, was going to be able to see all of his memories: the secrets of the Varden, the whereabouts of the elves. His slip in concentration was all that Galbatorix needed to finally tear the wall away.

The presence of evil filled Eragon's mind as he tried to protect his most important memories. He focused on his journey to Ellesmera and his subsequent training, paying particularly close attention to the existence of Oromis and Glaedr. All the while he was consciously aware of Galbatorix digging through his childhood memories. The king picked away at the memories of finding Saphira's egg, and his training with Brom. Galbatorix painfully dug through his meeting with Murtagh and their flight together to the Varden. Like a greedy child, Galbatorix searched endlessly through Eragon's memories of the Varden, pausing briefly on Eragon's blessing of Elva. The king saw the defeat of Durza and the death of Ajihad and Murtagh. From there though, the king could see no more until Eragon returned from Ellesmera. Eragon could sense Galbatorix's frustration at not knowing what happened in the missing months, and braced himself for an attack. The onslaught came moments later, and although Galbatorix inflicted as much pain as he could on the hazy memories that he could not see, he could not get Eragon to yield them. Growling with anger, the king continued on, ravaging through Eragon's memories of his return to the Varden. The king paused for a long while on his memory of Angela, talking to him angrily about Elva and what he had done with her. Curiously, Galbatorix also spent a long time on meeting Elva herself, seemingly fascinated by her and what she represented. Continuing on, the king at last came to the Battle of the Burning Plains. Eragon frantically tried to throw up barriers to block his meeting with Murtagh, but the king brushed them aside and devoured them, savouring the betrayal felt by Eragon, and his horror at realizing who his father was. Lastly, Galbatorix pillaged through his memories of going to rescue Katrina, paying particularly close attention to Saphira, but before he could see what had happened to the dragon, everything went black. The next thing the king saw was his own dungeon.

Withdrawing from Eragon's mind, Galbatorix smirked at the boy holding onto the table to support himself. "I still do not understand," he stated, "so I am afraid we will have to do this again sometime. Do not worry though, once you are my dragon rider we will work on it since it seems like such a difficult task for you to grasp. "

"How many times must I tell you that I will never swear loyalty to you?" Eragon gasped. "You have killed everyone that I care about, there are no more pawns for you to use against me."

"What if," Galbatorix paused. "What if I told you that I could bring Murtagh back to life? I believe that if I did, a sufficient payment would be your allegiance."

Eragon narrowed his eyes, his ragged breathing cutting through the silence. He remembered Brom's lesson from what seemed like ages ago. He had asked if it were possible to bring someone back to life from the dead. Brom had strongly told him in no uncertain terms that it would certainly mean death, and that a Rider should never attempt it. "Are you crazy?" Eragon asked incredulously. "You yourself would probably die in the process, and while I would not care if that should happen, I do not want Murtagh to once again be under your control when he has finally achieved peace."

Galbatorix stared at Eragon. "Let me put it to you this way then. If you do not consent to giving your allegiance if I bring Murtagh back to life, I will be sure to receive it from you in a few days when Arya returns. If you agree to the first choice, then not only will your brother be brought back, but Arya will also remain alive. Unfortunately, if you choose the second option, Murtagh shall not be brought back and Arya will soon join him and your cousin."

Eragon paused, thoughts swirling in his head. He did not want Murtagh to be captive again, not when he was partly the cause of it once already. But if he did not swear loyalty, then Arya would die. Why not allow the king to try and bring Murtagh back to life, for had Murtagh not spoken at one time that no one's life was more important than his own? Eragon bit his lip.

"I'll agree to neither of them," Eragon finally decided, speaking aloud. He watched as the king's face slowly darkened as he struggled to control his rage. Galbatorix abruptly turned away and went to his throne. Sitting down, he snapped his fingers and the pair of guards who had brought Eragon to the room entered it. "Take the prisoner away," he droned monotonously. And although he did not speak to Eragon again, Eragon could feel the king's eyes boring into his back as he was led from the room.

--

**Next chapter will be up soon! I'm looking forward to it, the plotline is finally starting to take effect!**

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	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Thanks to the reviewers! Just as a warning, there are a few characters that I made up in this chapter (sorry if you don't like OCs). They will only be around for this chapter though, so no worries!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Eragon**_**, **_**Eldest**_**, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Fifteen:

That night Eragon lay still in his cell, once again listening to the sounds of the other prisoners. Earlier in the day after his meeting with Galbatorix, he had decided that he could not sit idle any longer and wait for someone to rescue him. The only way to escape would be to break out on his own. He could only hope that Arya would not be killed by Galbatorix when he left, and that he would later be able to return and rescue her, or that she would escape on her own. Being in the room with Galbatorix and thinking about Brom had helped him to remember some of the old man's lessons, but more importantly, it had reminded him that someone had once broken into the castle and stolen Saphira's egg. Eragon could only hope that the king had never found the passageway that Brom had mentioned, or that if he had, did not block it too heavily. Eragon was relying on Brom's passage as his means out of the castle.

All day he had perfected his plan. He could only hope that everything went according to it. Without magic, he would have to deal with anyone he met by physical force. He was confident in his abilities, now heightened by his elvish qualities, but he recognized that even with these he would have to be careful due to his weakened state. If he managed to find the passageway before he was recaptured and actually made it out of the city, Eragon planned to head south to Surda where he could hopefully relocate with the Varden. He had considered moving north toward the elves, but had decided against it at the last moment because he did not want to give away their location if he happened to be trailed by some of the king's guards.

Taking a deep breath to calm his taut nerves, Eragon gripped his hands in an effort to keep them from shaking. If his plan did not work he held no doubts that the king would kill him. He could not afford to fail.

Taking one last breath, Eragon stood up and went to stand beside the bars of his cell. "Guard," he called out, banging his fists on the bars. "Guard!"

A younger guard approached apprehensively. "Yes?" he asked, seemingly cautious. For the first time, Eragon really looked at the guard and deemed him to be no more than a few years older than himself. His face was pale in the faint torchlight and Eragon could see that his hands were also shaking slightly, causing the keys in his hand to jingle quietly. From the looks of the guard, Eragon judged him to be well educated, perhaps a scholar who was conscripted into Galbatorix's army.

Eragon cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts. "I- I need to talk with King Galbatorix right away. It's a matter of utmost importance." He willed himself to look fearful, not a thing that was hard to do considering the way his heart was pounding.

The young guard bit his lip and looked at Eragon hesitantly. "His royal highness will be sleeping at the moment. I will be sure to see that he entertains an audience with you at first light."

Eragon forced himself to open his eyes a little wider. "No, no," he said. "It must be now. It cannot wait!" He grabbed the bars of the cell with both hands, clenching them until his knuckles became white. "Please," he whispered.

"I- I'm sorry. I can't," the guard spoke again. He looked around as if afraid that something might jump out of the shadows at him. "I do not have the jurisdiction to wake up his majesty. You must wait until morning, but I shall inform him as soon as he awakens of your need to see him."

The guard turned to leave but as he did so, Eragon reached out and grabbed his jacket with his hand. "If you do not take me to your king right now, then you can tell him in the morning that I was ready to offer him my allegiance, but that due to your insolence and stupidity you chose not to wake him and that I will never offer my pledge again. And it will be your head, not mine, on his wall," he hissed.

Eragon felt the guard sharpen stiffly and pause. He slowly turned around, turmoil in his eyes. At once, Eragon felt bad about deceiving the young man but he knew that if he did not complete his plan, he would be dead within days. The young guard stood wavering, his hands shaking. His eyes darted between Eragon, the keys in his hands, and the door. Slowly he walked over to the door and slid the key in. The click that the lock made as it slid back was all Eragon needed. He threw open the door and before the guard could cry out had kicked him in the stomach. The guard's breath went out with a whoosh, and Eragon soon had his hands around the young man's neck. Although the man struggled, Eragon held on tight and soon the body went limp in his arms. Bending over the guard, Eragon could still feel a faint warm breath on his cheek. Grabbing the keys from the floor, Eragon looked remorsefully at the young man. He did not know what Galbatorix would do to him, and wished that he could bring the man with him but knew that he could not. After gagging the guard and tying him up in the cell, Eragon locked the door and slowly backed away. Realizing time was of the essence, he soon fled down the dungeon hallway. It did not appear that there was another guard on duty, but Eragon knew that one would soon come to replace the young man. Taking the stairs two at a time, he finally reached the top.

Peering around the doorway, Eragon cautiously looked for any signs of guards. Not seeing any, he quickly stole out of the cover of darkness into the dim light of the long hallway. Racing along Eragon tried to gather his thoughts. Where would the passageway be? If there was a hidden passageway that Galbatorix had not discovered, where would it be? Coming to another corner, Eragon rounded it and came face to face with a burly guard. Surprise and astonishment crossed the man's face as he gasped out, "You!". Eragon needed no more prodding. He launched himself at the man, punching wildly in his efforts to subdue the man. The guard managed to grab hold of one of Eragon's arms and twisted it painfully behind his back, causing Eragon to stifle a cry of pain. However, before the man had time to do anything else, Eragon swung his other arm around, striking the man on the head. Adrenaline coursing through his body, Eragon repeatedly struck the man until he fell over unconscious. Dazed, Eragon took a step back. Footsteps sounding back around the corner was all that Eragon needed to force his heavy feet onward.

Ducking into a nondescript doorway, Eragon launched himself down a stairwell. At the bottom, many doorways filled the tiny, cramped hallway, and Eragon strained his eyes trying to see in the half-light. Frantic, Eragon tried to decide where to hide. The doors could hold any number of things, Eragon thought sourly. He was just going to have to take a chance and hope for the best.

Halfway down the hall, Eragon twisted one of the doorknobs and pushed his way into the room. Darkness met his eyes and his vision darkened as his eyes tried to adjust to the difference in light. His arms held out in front of him, Eragon stumbled forward in his blindness, stiffening when he felt the cool metal of a dagger blade being pressed to his neck.

"Make a sound and I'll kill you right here and now," a voice whispered in his ear gruffly. "Evaeder, fetch something to bind him with. We shall soon have our-" The man broke off as heavy footfalls neared the doorway in the passageway. Suddenly, something heavy struck Eragon on the head. He barely registered it as rough hands seized him and shoved him forward, further into the room. A gag was forced into his mouth and his eyes were blindfolded as his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were bound. Several pairs of hands forced him onto the ground and he groaned in pain as he was pushed under something, his exit blocked. Eragon heard men scrambling around the room, and the creak of beds as people climbed into them. The one above him sagged down, touching the top of his chest, but Eragon could not force himself to move with the pain in his head.

Not long afterward the door of the room banged open and light flooded the room. The men in the beds above Eragon, roused from their fake slumber, groaned in protest and indignation while Eragon held his breath.

"Shut your mouths!" the guard ordered. "We're here looking for someone who has injured one of the guards upstairs. We know it was one of you slaves. You're always looking for trouble."

The men grunted in response. Finally one spoke up for all of the men. "We haven't seen nobody movin' round down here but your guards all night. And you tell them that the next time we catch any of 'em down here in this room again, disturbin' our here sleep, we'll knock the livin' daylights outta 'em. Got it?"

"Now you listen here, slave," the guard spoke contemptuously. "I'm the one in charge here, and if I ever hear of you accosting any of my men, I will personally speak to the king and make sure that you are killed for your insolence. Got it?" He asked mockingly, as Eragon saw the boots turn and leave the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Ya won't hear about it, cause that soldier will be dead," Eragon heard whispered above him, causing chuckles to chorus throughout the room. "Now, what do ya men think about livin' up to my words and seeing who we got prisoner down here. With any luck it'll be one of them soldiers high on the king's list. Killin' him will jist be our duty to the people. One less person to torment 'em."

Eragon sensed the men moving around the room and a minute later he was roughly grabbed and pulled out from under the bunk. Shoved up against the wall, Eragon registered in his fuzzy head that he had to escape, that precious time was being wasted. He struggled in vain against the cords that bound him.

"Lookee here boys, he's a fighter," the man crowed with delight. Eragon shrank into himself a little. He was stuck, his arms and legs securely tied. Thoughts jumbled in his mind, Eragon tried to talk but the rough gag in his mouth prevented comprehensible words from leaving his mouth. He stopped. Urged himself to focus his wandering thoughts.

The men were murmuring quietly around him. "…doesn't look like a guard ….. clothes are dirty …don't think he's a slave here …never seen him before …fetch large favour with king…" Eragon moaned and struggled again against his bonds.

The blindfold was suddenly lifted off of Eragon's eyes and he blinked owlishly in the half darkness lit by a small lantern covered by a thin, threadbare blanket. The men stared at Eragon as he looked at each of them, pleading with his eyes to let him go. There were eight of them in the room although a few did not seem interested in him, choosing to lay in their beds and try to sleep. They looked around at each other, some seemingly confused. A few muttered under their breath, sneaking glances at him as they talked amongst themselves.

"Plmph," Eragon tried speaking again. He began violently struggling against his bonds, but it caused his head to ache so he was forced to stop. What was he trying to do? Leave? Yes, that was it. He was trying to escape, and these men were preventing him from escaping. The guards would soon return and he would be taken to the king. Eragon slumped against the wall, his head sagging on his chest.

One of the men walked over cautiously. "I'm Evaeder," he offered, pausing for a moment. "If I remove this gag, are you going to yell out?" he asked.

"Well, course he is." Eragon watched as the man who had spoken to the guard broke away from the small group of men on the other side of the room. "He's one of them Evaeder. One of them. Not one of us. Course he's gonna call for help. And then where'll we be? We'll be facing the gallows, that's where! Think about yer family, yer wife and little girl."

"Hush," Evaeder said. Turning back to Eragon, he spoke gently. "I'm going to take the gag out now. I'm trusting you not to yell out, but if you do I cannot prevent anyone in this room from killing you. Do you understand?" Eragon nodded his head. The man reached around and untied the gag, pulling it from Eragon's mouth.

Licking his lips, Eragon looked up at the man called Evaeder. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Your welcome," the man said. "We're not all savages," he added, pointedly looking at the other man standing across from him. Tilting his head back, he stared quizzically at Eragon. "What's your name, son? And what are you doing down here if your not one of the king's slaves?"

Eragon paused, not knowing whether to trust these men. "Eragon," he finally said, watching as many of the eyes around the room widened in surprise. "And I'm not a slave, not yet at least."

"Eragon as in the rebel Rider?" one of the men asked incredulously.

Slowly, Eragon nodded his head. "Aye, I am he," he added bitterly. Immediately, Evaeder bent down and began to untie the bonds that held his arms and legs.

"We're terribly sorry, Rider," the man spoke. "It seems there has been a misunderstanding."

"What misunderstanding?" cut in the other man. "Stop it, Evaeder! You cannot just let him go. Why, if the king found out we had helped him escape, he would kill us all and our families too! Would you endanger all of us simply to help a lost cause? Perhaps if we take him to the king he will let us out of slavery!"

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" Evaeder asked, finishing the knot tying Eragon's hands together. Hurriedly, another man rushed forward bearing a knife, cutting through the bonds around his feet. "He is our only hope, our last hope. 'Tis a wonder that the boy is still alive and has escaped his prison."

"What if he didn't escape? What if the king is testin' us all? Tryin' to see where your loyalty stands?"

"Enough!" Evaeder hissed. "I am helping this young man escape, and if you are intent on selling him to Galbatorix, you will have to get through me." The other man grumbled and looked around at the others, but most stared at the ground or looked away. Muttering to himself, he walked over to his bunk and crawled on top, glaring all the while at Eragon.

"I must hurry," Eragon finally spoke into the silence. "Someone has surely noticed my absence." Pausing he looked around at the men. "Please, has anyone ever heard of a passageway that leads out of the castle?"

"Do ya think we're stupid boy?" Thundered the man. "If there was a passageway outta this here castle do ya not think we would be long gone?" The other men quietly stared at him.

Silence filled the room. Eragon stood up, dismayed. If no one had heard of the passageway, chances were that Galbatorix had found it and sealed it. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you for your troubles," he said. "And from hiding me from those guards." He hurried to the doorway. Reaching it he turned the knob and peered out into the corridor.

"Wait," a voice whispered hoarsely. Eragon spun around. Evaeder was staring hard at him. "I have heard of such a passageway. I believe I know where it is hidden."

"Please, can you show me?" Eragon asked.

"Aye, but I do not know if it is still open." Evaeder quickly grabbed a few things from around him including, Eragon noted, a dagger. Noticing Eragon's look, Evaeder looked at him questioningly, "Do you have no weapon?"

"No," Eragon admitted, feeling stupid not for having taken one of the guards' weapons. Evaeder consulted with another one of the men and Eragon was soon offered a small dagger. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

"I shall return by first light," Evaeder told the others. "If I do not, I trust that one of you shall inform my family of what has happened." The other men nodded gravely. Whispers of luck quietly filled the air as the two prepared to leave. After what seemed like forever, Evaeder was finally ready and Eragon quietly stole from the room.

Once in the corridor Evaeder took the lead. He led Eragon through a series of walkways, each twisting and turning. There were not many guards to be seen, and those that were could be easily bypassed as they lay dozing at their posts.

"The king doesn't keep many patrols down here in the slaves' quarters," Evaeder confided quietly to Eragon as they rounded yet another corner. "He believes with good reason that the slaves would not be able to escape if they managed to reach the main floor of the castle, because of the number of guards he posts up there."

"Who did you think I was?" Eragon suddenly asked. "You seemed ready to attack someone when I arrived."

Evaeder laughed shortly. "That was Ouedre's idea. There is one particularly guard that likes to beat on us slaves, and Ouedre believed that he was on patrol tonight. He wanted to ambush him and give him a little of what he gives us."

"Oh," Eragon said, becoming silent. The two crept further down the hallway before Eragon spoke again. "If you know about the passageway, why do you not leave?"

"I have a wife and a daughter here," he answered quietly. "To leave would almost certainly mean their death, and to take them with me would be almost as great a danger to them as well. I fear that we would not make it out of the city before we were captured again, and then we would be put to death. I could not bear to have them killed. So I must wait for a miracle to occur and the king to be overthrown." He smiled at Eragon. "I believe my miracle has finally arrived."

Eragon grew uncomfortable. "Let us just hope that the passageway is unobstructed," he finally muttered.

"Yes, 'tis not much further now. I believe that the king has long forgotten the passageway. Occasionally I believe that some slaves still use it, although it can be quite a danger to pass through." Evaeder walked toward a decrepit doorway, pushing open the rotting door. "Here we are," he said grandly, spreading his arms wide.

Eragon took a step inside the room and waited for his eyes to adjust. As they did, his eyes widened in disbelief. Stacks upon stacks of wooden crates were piled from the floor to the ceiling, each containing books. "The books Galbatorix confiscated," he said in awe.

"Aye," Evaeder confirmed sadly. "Years of our history becoming food for rodents and insects. But we are not here to lament on this, you must escape. Come here," he beckoned for Eragon to follow him to the far corner of the room. Shoving a few crates away from the wall, he exposed a small hole no taller than Eragon's waist and no wider than his arm's width. Eragon looked at it critically.

A sudden shout from not far down the hallway caused both men to jump with a start. "You must hurry," Evaeder urged. "Go! This tunnel will lead you into a home in Uru'baen. The woman will know why you come. Once there you will have to hurry out of the gates as I am sure the guards there will close them as soon as they learn of your escape."

Eragon turned to Evaeder desperately as a light in the corridor grew closer to the room they were in. "Will you not come with me?" he asked.

"My family is here, Eragon. I cannot abandon them."

"But the guards-"

"Do not worry about me, friend. Please, you must go. I shall be able to cover the passageway if you leave now."

Nodding his head, Eragon grasped Evaeder's hand. "Thank you so much for all your kindness," he whispered. "I shall not forget what you have done for me." Evaeder smiled. Before he could change his mind, Eragon got to his knees and crawled into the passageway. He could hear Evaeder dragging the crates back in front, and soon after, shouting came from the room. Quickly, trying not to think about Evaeder, Eragon moved through the passageway.

It was dirty and cramped in the tunnel, and Eragon began to feel claustrophobic. The air was dense and smelled of dirt. Occasionally, Eragon would run into a pile of rubble where there had been a cave-in, and would have to use his hands to dig through. It seemed to him that he had been travelling for leagues, yet he could not see further than a few feet in front of him and could not tell when the tunnel would end. Still, he continued crawling forward, praying that there was an exit to the passageway that he was in.

Eventually Eragon noticed that the tunnel began to slant upwards. Encouraged by this change he began to crawl faster. Soon Eragon could see a small sliver of light, and he hurried forward as fast as he could, his hands and knees raw from what seemed like hours in the tunnel. At last he finally reached the end where the dirt walls converged on wooden doors above his head. He put his ear to the wood. All seemed silent above him. Eragon paused, unsure of what to do. He pushed gently against the boards with his hands, but they did not move. Frowning, Eragon thrust his whole weight upward, but the doors still did not budge. Frustrated, Eragon pounded lightly on the doors with his fists. He could hear floorboards creaking above him, and it seemed as if something heavy was being moved away from the doorway above his head. Finally he heard the click of a lock as the door was unlatched and thrown open.

The brightness of the room blinded Eragon in the tunnel. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust them to the change in light. An older woman was beaming down at him from the room and offering him a hand. Reluctantly he took it and pulled himself up, glancing around the room as he did so. It was a small home, he noted, with a wood stove in the corner and a tiny bed against one wall. The curtain on the one small window in the house was drawn.

"I am Leyla," the woman said, interrupting Eragon's thoughts.

"Eragon," he mumbled back, still looking around. He noticed that a small chest of drawers had been shoved away into the middle of the room and guessed that it was what had prevented him from opening the doors in the tunnel.

"I didn't think I would live to see another person coming out of that tunnel," the woman continued, oblivious to Eragon's wandering gaze. "When the last one came out, he said there had been a cave-in not two feet behind him. Imagine that! Not two feet away! He believed no one would ever be able to escape again, but here you are!" Leyla laughed happily.

"Yes," Eragon said absently. "There were a few cave-ins but none so bad as that." He paused and turned to the older woman. "I'm sorry, but I really must go. I must make it out of the city as soon as possible."

Leyla's expression darkened. "I'm afraid it is already too late for that. The guards gave the order not long ago for the gates to be closed until a certain prisoner is found." She scrutinized him. "There are guards combing the entire city as we speak."

Eragon massaged his temples with his hands. "Is there no way out?" he asked desperately.

"No," Leyla replied. She turned around and walked over to the window, peeking out. "Soon the guards will be knocking on doors, demanding to search houses. You will not be safe here much longer, I fear."

"Then I must leave," Eragon said determinedly. "I will not endanger you by remaining here. I will find a way out of the city or die trying."

Leyla smiled. "Very courageous, Dragon Rider, but I think you underestimate the guards of this city. They are prepared for this very situation. Galbatorix already let one Dragon Rider slip out of his grasp once, do not think he will let it happen again."

"Well I cannot just stay here," Eragon countered. "I will not live my life hiding here in the king's shadow."

"I would not expect you to, but you must realize that what you propose to do is foolhardy. You will soon be back in the king's grasp, and this time he will make sure that there is no way you can escape!"

"I know what could possibly result," Eragon said coldly. "But I refuse to remain here any longer. Every minute that I stay the king moves closer to finding me. So I thank you for helping me this far, but I really must be going." He moved toward the door.

"Foolish boy," the woman scolded. "But if you are intent on leaving Uru'baen right now, I would encourage you to visit a man who lives in the southeast corner of the city. His house is much like all the others, but it has a small plot of flowers in the front. It is there that I took the other slaves that escaped the castle. He helps them leave this city. I would expect that he can help you too." She pulled out a dark cloak from the small chest of drawers. "You must try to blend in with the locals," she said, handing it to him while critically eyeing his clothing. "Right now you are not very inconspicuous."

Thanking her again, Eragon turned to the doorway while slipping the cloak over his head. He pulled the hood up, and turned to smile at Leyla only to see her shaking her head disapprovingly. Shrugging his shoulders, Eragon opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine, breathing deeply. He had not been outside in such a long time. Weeks? A few months? He had lost all track of time in the castle. Cautiously, he began to move down the narrow street.

Uru'baen, Eragon noticed, was a dirty city. Despite being the place where the king lodged, the streets were narrow and cramped. Beggars sat at street corners, but no one paid them any heed and continued on their way. Young children played in the streets but their faces were hard and lined, as if they were not even children. People kept their heads down while they walked, which suited Eragon just fine as he didn't have to show his face. Every time a guard ran past him, Eragon lowered his head even further in what he hoped looked like a respectful gesture. Slowly, he made his way across town. Finding the house that Leyla talked of was not easy, but he eventually did and purposefully walked up to it and knocked on the door. An older man answered the door, took one look at Eragon and slammed the door in his face. Indignation rose in Eragon so that he pounded on the door again. A guard glanced his way. Eragon stopped pounding and resumed knocking politely. Eventually the door opened again and the man glared at him. "What do you want?" he asked angrily. "Can you not see that you are drawing attention to yourself? Or am I mistaken in my belief that you are seeking a way out of the city?" Eragon shook his head. Groaning, the man stepped back from the door and motioned Eragon inside, muttering to himself.

Eragon gratefully hurried into the house and watched as the man locked the door behind himself. "You are the prisoner Galbatorix seeks," the man accused." Eragon simply nodded his head, hoping he could trust this man. "Do you know how hard it will be to get you out of this city? All the guards are on alert and the people have been told to keep an eye out for you. Your face is plastered on every street corner!"

"But you have done this before," Eragon reminded him. "Leyla told me that you have helped others."

The man barked a laugh. "Yes, but not an escaped Dragon Rider. Galbatorix could really care less about a few slaves. But you… He is not ready to let you go."

"Can you help me or not?" Eragon asked, more harshly than he intended.

The man paused for a moment and then grimly nodded his head. "I trust you know what the consequences will be if we are caught." He waited until Eragon nodded his affirmation. "Then we must move quickly, every minute that is wasted is more time for Galbatorix to find us."

Not long after, Eragon had changed into some rags that the man, Daude, had lying around from the other slaves that he had helped. His eyes were lined with dark kohl, and his hair had been cut haphazardly. His skin was darkened by the dirt that they had smeared on him, and the gedwey ignasia on his hand was hidden from sight by a piece of torn, bloody fabric, as if he had cut himself. Together, they hitched up a wagon and loaded it with supplies, as Daude planned to travel to Tierm. Then they headed for the gate.

It soon became apparent to Eragon that it was going to take them a while to leave the city. Guards were carefully inspecting everyone trying to leave the Uru'baen as well as the goods they carried. The closer Eragon got to the gate, the more his heart pounded. He could feel sweat trickling down his face, and prayed it wasn't washing away the dirt and kohl on his eyes. All too soon, Eragon stood silently by Daude as he explained to the guards why he and his slave were leaving the city. The guards searched their wagon and scrutinized Daude before glancing at Eragon suspiciously. They stared at him for a while, but finally one waved a hand forward, turning back to the next group of people. Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. He and Daude continued moving forward when Eragon heard a shout coming from behind them. Daude continued to nudge him forward but the guard soon caught up and stopped them. Eragon risked a glance up and was dismayed to see the same guard that he had seen outside of Daude's house grinning back at him.

"Almost didn't recognize you," the guard said. Daude stared at him quizzically, but Eragon could see that he had paled. "I'm not stupid," he continued contemptuously. "I recognize you from the posters plastered all over. You are the one our king is looking for. Now, I might be able to forget seeing you…" he trailed off, greed shining in his eyes. Quickly Daude thrust some coins into the man's outstretched hand. Once again, he waved them on. Once they had gotten about ten paces, Eragon heard him yelling back at some other soldiers. He turned around to see the guard pointing at him, and watched as the soldiers began to run toward him, shoving people out of the way as the gates began to close.

"Run!" Daude yelled, taking off. They managed to get out before the gate was locked, but Eragon soon lost Daude as he blended into the stream of travellers leaving Uru'baen. Looking frantically around, Eragon veered off the road into the countryside. Spotting a grove of trees, he sprinted toward them, thankful for his increased swiftness in speed. The shouts of the men grew distant behind him, but Eragon plunged into the forest, stumbling over roots and pushing his way through bushes. After a while he allowed himself to slow down and his breathing became regular once again. Eventually, he came across the Ramr River. Eragon followed it until it came to an end, and then continued in the same direction, heading south toward Surda. He realized that he would have to be extremely cautious, as the king would have men scouring the countryside for him. He continued walking until late into the night, stopping when he found what he deemed a suitable hiding place for the rest of the night. Settling back against the outcropping of rocks, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a small smile.

He was free!

**Sorry about the delay with the chapter. Had some computer issues… **

**Review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****Eragon****, ****Eldest****, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Sixteen:

Galbatorix strode down the corridor, his pale face twisted into an angry grimace. Servants and nobles alike cowered as he passed them, hoping not to draw his attention onto them. However, they had no cause to worry. The king passed each without incident, and without so much as a glance at them. Many breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded a corner and passed out of their sight.

Galbatorix himself was not oblivious to the actions of those who served him, and instead revelled in the fear that he instilled in them. It was well known news throughout the castle that he had succumbed to a fit of rage upon being woken and learning of Eragon's escape. He had sent out thousands of soldiers to scour the countryside in search of the wayward Rider. For the past few hours, guards and soldiers could be seen criss-crossing the landscape surrounding the land just outside of Uru'baen, examining every hole, cave and crevice. They had all returned though, and not one of them with the missing boy. Galbatorix's face tightened in anger as he remembered the soldiers returning without Eragon. Quickly he turned down another corridor, ignoring the two guards that hastily bowed to him as he passed. The hallway he was now in was empty and darker than the main pathways of the castle. Only every second sconce was lit, causing shadows to dance on the walls as he passed. No tapestries decorated the stone walls, and the carpet underneath his feet was plush and soft, unlike those in the main walkways where the footfalls of many people trampled it.

Hurrying forward the king walked purposefully toward the three doorways at the end of the corridor. He turned to the one on the right and muttered a few words as he approached it. Without knocking, Galbatorix thrust open the door and stormed in. The boy he sought was standing beside the small, lone window in the room, his forehead pressed against the glass and his fingers touching it gently as if longing to be outside. Upon his rude arrival, the young man looked up through his bangs and the king saw his eyes harden before he stiffly bowed.

"Murtagh."

Murtagh stared at Galbatorix, waiting for him to speak. He did not have to wait long.

"What do you know of the disappearance of your brother?" The king asked harshly. A hint of a smile crossed Murtagh's lips. So it was true. Eragon had escaped. He had heard the alarm ring early in the morning and had seen the soldiers marching out into the fields surrounding Uru'baen. Shortly after he had contacted Thorn to see if he knew what had happened. After pestering Shruikan for a few moments, the ruby dragon had been informed by the elder dragon that the young Rider prisoner of the king had escaped.

"I know nought… my lord," Murtagh answered. He almost added that since he had been locked up for weeks after his supposed death there was no way he could know anything, but held his tongue. As it was, Murtagh assumed that Galbatorix was probably regretting his decision to make Eragon think that he was dead. After all, the boy had told Murtagh that he would not leave the city without him. That he would leave because he thought Murtagh was dead was no surprise to the man who was supposed to long since have been deceased. The one thing Murtagh could not believe was how readily Eragon had believed his death. Again. It brought back memories of being captured by the Twins. A part of him wondered if Eragon simply did not see how easily he kept being tricked by the king, or if he just did not care. Either way, Eragon had left Uru'baen, and although he had not helped Murtagh escape as he had said he would, Murtagh was happy.

A hard slap across his face caused Murtagh to glare at the king. Galbatorix was staring cruelly at him. "You are happy about this, are you not?" The king questioned. Murtagh did not answer. Another slap crossed his face. "Answer me!" Galbatorix thundered.

"No, my liege. Why should I be happy about the desertion of my brother?" This earned him another slap across the face. Reflexively, Murtagh raised his arm to ward off another attack.

Galbatorix's eyes darkened and glittered. "I know that you tried to help him escape before. You cannot hide such things from me, Murtagh. It would be better if you told me where he is before he is found and suffers more because you refuse to tell me where he has gone." When Murtagh remained silent, the king struck Murtagh again, causing a river of blood to trickle down Murtagh's cheek where one of the king's rings had hit his skin. "Then I have a task for you, Morzansson. You are to go and find your brother and bring him back. I expect that this should not be a problem for you and Thorn, and that the two of you will return shortly. I believe that Eragon has probably headed for the Varden, so I would advise to start by looking south of the city." The king repeated his words in the ancient language, but try as he might, Murtagh could not see any means of a loophole. Defeated, he packed a few belongings in his saddlebag and turned to the doorway. As he left, he heard the king call after him, "And Murtagh, I do not expect you to return empty-handed." Murtagh did not stop walking.

Murtagh rolled his shoulders from where he sat atop Thorn. The pair had been flying for hours over the land south of Uru'baen as the king had instructed, but had not seen any sight of Eragon. Inside, Murtagh was relieved. Reaching out his mind to Thorn, he asked the dragon to land for a while.

Once on the ground, Murtagh disembarked from Thorn and walked around for a few moments, stretching his legs.

_It feels good to fly with you again,_ Thorn ventured to say.

Murtagh allowed himself a small smile._ It would be even better if we were not hunting my brother._

Thorn let out a small growl. _Such is not the nature of things. We must move on and overcome. I suppose that you are not really looking for him…_ When Murtagh did not respond, Thorn growled louder. _Murtagh, I do not understand why you keep torturing yourself like this by letting that boy wander freely. Eventually, like all others before him, he will fall to the king-_

_Like us, you mean?_ Murtagh said bitterly.

Thorn's back arched proudly. _All that I mean to say is do not be so quick as to let your hope ride upon Eragon. He is but a youngling, and has already been caught by the king once. It is only a matter of time before it happens again. What shall you do if we see him? Will you let him go again and risk death? I realize that you have concern for his wellbeing and do not wish for him to live as we do, but surely you see that Galbatorix will not let you get away with letting him go freely again. The punishment will be worse this time than last, if not resulting in death. And remember, Murtagh, that it is not only your own life that you forfeit, but mine as well._

_You do not understand, Thorn!_ Murtagh cried out angrily. _Eragon is my brother. My brother! He was my friend. He is my friend. Other than you, who else has shown me kindness in this world besides Tornac and him? No one. And although we have not always seen eye-to-eye, I will do everything in my power so that he does fall within the king's clutches, because I believe he would do the same for me._

_Are you so sure about that, Murtagh? Would Eragon do everything to keep you away from the king? Because the way I have understood it, he did nothing to save you when the Twins captured you._

Murtagh stared at Thorn. His face grew hot and his hands curled into fists. Without another word he turned and walked away from Thorn. Spying a small cave not too far way, he stalked toward it and crawled in. He realized that Thorn would not be able to fit inside, and felt a guilty sense of relief. He did not want to see or talk to his dragon who sometimes reminded him of Galbatorix. Despite Murtagh's best attempts at trying to keep the king's ideas and opinions from Thorn, the dragon had absorbed some of Galbatorix's lessons. As a result, Murtagh had a conflicted dragon who sometimes had a hard time discerning moral issues.

Murtagh sighed heavily. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the rough rock of the cave. His breathing gradually deepened until he fell into a fitful slumber.

Hours later, Murtagh awoke to the sound of Thorn calling his name irritably. With a panic, he realized that he had fallen asleep and jumped up, banging his head on the top of the cave. Quickly he crawled out to find Thorn pacing in front of the opening, his teeth barred and his eyes angry.

_I have been fending off the king's questions for the past two hours,_ Thorn accused. _I expect that you will have a good excuse to tell him as to why he had to talk to me, and not you. _Murtagh remained silent, not yet willing to speak to Thorn. The dragon shook his head, but a minute later when Murtagh quietly suggested they take to the air and continue their search, he lowered himself to the ground so that Murtagh could climb up.

Once in the air, the pair continued further south to look for Eragon. No trail could be spotted, nor could many people be seen. Thorn kept a vigilant lookout, but whenever he craned his neck back to look at his Rider, Murtagh's face was distant and although his head was tilted toward the ground as if searching for something, his eyes betrayed him. Thorn knew Murtagh was searching, but it was not for his brother that he looked. He was searching for an answer to their predicament. A loophole just in case they did find Eragon, a reason for the king as to why he had not returned with the missing boy.

Thorn left Murtagh alone. There was no point in reasoning with him, as Murtagh was stubborn and would resist whatever he had to say. He rarely listened to the dragon, saying that he was older and had lived through much more than Thorn. Thorn did not necessarily agree, but accepted it, for the sole purpose of not arguing with Murtagh. The two got along for the most part, but sometimes their differing opinions did cause trouble. Murtagh believed that Galbatorix was evil, while Thorn did not see what was so bad about him. He hated Galbatorix for putting Murtagh through torture and agony, but he believed that if there were no rebels, then there would be no reason for Murtagh to disobey, which would cause much less pain for both of them. Thus, he solely blamed Eragon and the Varden for many of their predicaments, like their harsh training regiment, the torture for disobedience, and missions such as the one they were currently on.

Thorn continued flying until the skies darkened. Then, realizing that Murtagh would no longer be able to see, and was probably getting as tired as he was, he started to look for a suitable place to spend the night. Within moments he had spied a small clearing amidst the rocky landscape and landed by a small brook of water. As soon as he touched the ground, Murtagh jumped off his back and walked stiffly away from him. Thorn did not follow and crouched on the ground, curling up against the rocks. Opening one eye, he watched as Murtagh spread out his bedroll by the small body of water, keeping his back to Thorn. Smoke flew out of Thorn's nostrils as he sighed. Reluctantly, he closed his eye and settled down further against the rocks.

Hours later, Thorn was awoken by something brushing against his side. He cocked open an eye and craned his neck around, intending to kill whatever had dared to touch him. What he saw stopped him short. Murtagh lay beside Thorn, his arm carelessly thrown toward the dragon in his sleep. Thorn felt himself relax. Protectively, he stretched his wing over Murtagh, careful not to wake him. Pale sunlight was just beginning to stretch across the eastern sky. Thorn watched the ball of fire rise, a feeling of contentment rising within him as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Eragon crouched, his ears listening alertly to the sounds surrounding him. Gently, he reached out his consciousness, brushing against plants and animals alike. When he was satisfied that none meant him any harm, he stood up, stretching his exhausted limbs. Running for the past two days had made him weary, though he only stopped for as short of time as possible: mainly to eat or drink, but once to stop and rest. He had soon realized after his escape that Galbatorix would not let him get away easily, and had dodged many soldiers patrolling the area outside of Uru'baen. Once free of those guards, he had run in what he hoped was a southerly direction. Occasionally he spotted a group of soldiers in the distance, spread out across the land, combing it in search of him. It was not too hard to avoid these groups of soldiers. What he feared most was if Galbatorix decided to come look for him. The thought made his blood run cold. Reluctantly, his arms and legs protesting, Eragon began to run again. With the distance he had covered in the past few days, he expected to reach the border of Surda soon. From there he would make his way to Cithri, where he hoped to send word of his return to Nasuada and the Varden. Then, he would continue on his way to Aberon. Eragon breathed deeply, his throat burning. If he lived that long.

Murtagh frowned. _I don't think we're going to find him Thorn, _he thought aloud. The sun shone brilliantly down on him and Thorn, and the heat was making him irritable. He could tell that Thorn too was beginning to get annoyed. The further south they went, the hotter it got, until sweat was pouring off the ruby dragon. Murtagh was slightly cooler, sitting atop Thorn, but the sun still beat down on him. Respite came momentarily in the form of a cloud, but it quickly passed, and the temperature seemed to soar even higher.

_Can't… give up_, Thorn panted. His wings struggled to maintain their current altitude, and Murtagh noticed how they were beginning to droop, much like a wilted flower. His frown deepened.

_There's no point in wearing ourselves out. If we do find Eragon, not that I think we will, but if we do, I do not think it would help to have us dropping over from exhaustion._

_King already… isn't happy. Can't… risk further anger._

Murtagh sighed, running his hands through his hair. There was no further point in arguing with Thorn. The dragon had made up his mind, and would not be swayed from his course of action. Murtagh tried to get more comfortable in his saddle. His back was aching from riding the previous day, and his eyes stung from the sunlight and wind. Wearily, he bent over double, his cheek resting against Thorn's blistering hot scales. It wasn't long before his mind began to drift and he fell asleep.

When he awoke, Murtagh noticed that Thorn was still flying. A thick film of sweat had gathered on the dragon, and his breathing was laboured. The sun was still high in the sky, but all the clouds had dissipated, taking all cover from the heat with them. Murtagh looked down at the changing landscape flying past beneath them. Streams and rivers were becoming sparser, as were trees and forests. Plains stretched out as far as the eye could see.

_Please Thorn, let us stop and rest for a while,_ Murtagh pleaded. _You're exhausted. It won't do either of us any good if you drop out of the sky._

Thorn growled, but began a slow descent toward the ground. As soon as they made contact, Murtagh leaped off and unclasped the saddle from around Thorn's body. As Thorn sat down and stretched out, Murtagh refilled his waterskin, pulling up water from the ground as he had seen Eragon do when they had crossed the Hadarac Desert. Seeing the water gave Murtagh an idea. He cupped some in the palm of his hand and while staring intently down at it, murmured, _draumr kopa_. The water appeared to shiver slightly, but did not show him a picture of had known it wouldn't. As soon as he had escaped the magical barriers of Galbatorix's castle, Eragon probably had thrown up his own barriers, thus preventing anyone from scrying him. It was only natural.

Not long after, Thorn got back up and by unspoken consent the two took to the sky again. Despite Thorn's vigilant searching eyes and Murtagh's wandering ones, they saw no trace of the missing Rider.

Four days passed. Eragon still was not found. Murtagh was forced to watch as Thorn grew more and more agitated. As the time passed, less chance of finding Eragon remained. Finally, Murtagh had enough.

_Let us return to Uru'baen, Thorn._

Thorn growled in warning. _We have not found the boy yet. We cannot return without him. The king has made that perfectly clear._

_We aren't going to find him, Thorn,_ Murtagh chided gently. _You can see that as well as I can. We have been searching for days on end, and have been over much of the land south of the city. We have been all the way to the Surdan border. Yet we still have not seen any sight of him. He has surely reached Surda by now, which we cannot enter. We have no choice but to return to Uru'baen._

_The king will not accept this excuse,_ Thorn said angrily. _He will not care-_

_Thorn, _Murtagh interrupted. _I realize what the risks are._

_You do not understand! _Thorn roared. _I am your dragon. I am meant to protect you. I cannot just allow the king to inflict some sort of torture upon you._

Murtagh sighed and leaned down to hug as much of Thorn as he could. _I am stronger than you believe me to be. Please, I have accepted my fate. I would just much rather it be over with soon._

Thorn blew smoke out of his nostrils. Finally he spoke._ Very well, but you must promise to not block me from your mind as you usually do. I want to shoulder this pain with you._

Murtagh faltered. Finally, to placate Thorn, he agreed. Thorn quickly turned around in the opposite direction of the way they had been flying. _I hope we do not regret this decision._

For Murtagh, the return flight back to Uru'baen went much quicker than the flight to the Surdan border had been. It was a tense and anxious time, and even the smallest of exchanges between he and Thorn had turned into arguments. Far to soon, Uru'baen had come into view, and the king's castle along with it. Thorn flew quickly to the dragonhold, and Murtagh hastily took the saddle off Thorn. Aware of Shruikan's gaze upon them, Murtagh touched Thorn's mind. _I will see you in a little while._ The ruby dragon simply nodded, his eyes sadly watching his Rider walk out of the room.

Murtagh headed directly for the throne room where he knew Galbatorix would be residing. It would be much easier get his punishment over and done with. Closing his eyes, Murtagh stopped outside of the doors that he hated and took a deep breath. Pushing the doors open he walked in and straight up to the king, kneeling on the ground before the steps that led up to the throne. Galbatorix dismissed the other men he had been talking with. Only when the doors had closed behind them did Murtagh hear Galbatorix stand up from the throne and walk slowly down the stairs. His feet soon came into the view of Murtagh's bowed head. He risked a glance upward. Galbatorix's eyebrow was raised inquisitively, his face otherwise stoic.

"My king, I have failed you," Murtagh breathed. He bowed his head again staring at the ground, his jaw clenched.

"And why is that, Murtagh?" The king asked, a trace of rage just visible beneath his calm demeanour. "I was unable to contact you at one time. Were you so busy in your search that you failed to notice me trying to contact you? Thorn mentioned something of a sickness. Is there any truth in that?"

Murtagh bit his lip, remaining silent.

"I see," Galbatorix answered. "Well, if there is no truth in it, then young Thorn must be punished. I do not tolerate lies." His face did not go blank, but Murtagh recognized that he was communicating with Shruikan.

"My lord…," Murtagh stopped as Galbatorix stared at him. "I- I fell asleep. That is why you were unable to contact me. I apologize, my lord, but please do not punish Thorn for my mistake."

"Perhaps you should have thought of Thorn before you decided to take a little nap. Why, that very moment may have been just what your missing brother needed to get to Surda. As a matter of fact, I have just received information from a very reliable source within Surda that Eragon has reached Cithri. Do you know what the consequences of that are, Murtagh? Do you realize their full implications? Because I do not think you sense the gravity of this situation."

Murtagh winced as he felt pain coming from his bond with Thorn. "Please, my lord, call Shruikan off! Thorn does not deserve punishment." He shrunk against the weight of Galbatorix's implacable stare.

"Because of your failure to capture Eragon, the Varden have received their prized Rider back. And not only that, but it makes myself look weak. Imagine the stories they will spread about how Eragon was captured, and how he escaped from within my castle! What will that do to my image, Murtagh? How will that make me appear before the people of my country? Why, anyone who had even thought about those rebels once will surely go and join up with them now." The king took a breath, hatred shining in his eyes. "Your mistake is irrevocable."

Murtagh risked another glance up. "Please, my lord. Thorn…"

The king responded by delivering a swift kick to Murtagh's ribs. As Murtagh doubled over Galbatorix attacked his mind, ripping through the weak barrier and pillaging through his memories of the previous few days. All the fights with Thorn, the uncertainties, trying to search for a way out of the orders… All were seen by the king. The pain within Murtagh's mind was searing, but he forced himself to open his eyes and watch as Galbatorix's expression darkened with a horrible rage of understanding.

"You do not deserve to be called a Dragon Rider," Galbatorix hissed. Murtagh winced as the king stood up and walked over to one of the unlit torches on the wall. Taking it down, he walked back over to Murtagh. "Brisingr," he commanded. Murtagh watched as a flame flickered to life in the torch. Unconsciously, he got to his feet and took a step back as Galbatorix stepped toward him. "Letta," the king commanded. Murtagh stopped. "Malthinae," he continued. Murtagh felt the air condense around him, freezing him in place. As much as he wanted to turn and flee, the king's commands in the ancient language had forced him to stop, bound in place, unable to move a muscle. He struggled more vehemently as Galbatorix moved closer, a look of sheer anger upon his face.

Murtagh ceased struggling as Galbatorix reached out and grabbed his hand, jerking it forward. Murtagh felt the power of the ancient language pulling it backward, but Galbatorix muttered something under his breath and his arm froze in midair. Murtagh swallowed hard. His breath was coming out in short nervous breaths, and it was hard to get the amount of air he needed. His body was tense, and sweat poured off of him.

_Thorn?_ Murtagh called out anxiously. No reply was made. _Thorn!_ Murtagh yelled through their bond. Silence echoed in his mind. Murtagh glanced up at Galbatorix to see the king smirking at him. Realization hit Murtagh as he recognized that the king had blocked his link with Thorn.

"Since you do not wish to be a Dragon Rider, you shall have no need to be recognized as one, and such have no use for the Gedwey Ignasia," Galbatorix said coldly to him.

Murtagh felt himself become even stiller. Time seemed to freeze, and he watched in horror as the king held the open flame from the torch up to the palm of his hand. He gasped as the flame licked at his palm and he closed his eyes, tears leaking out of the sides. He willed his hand to move, he willed himself to move, but he could do neither. He was as frozen as a statue and as he struggled internally against his bonds, the pain increased. The burning was inextinguishable. He begged Galbatorix to stop, he begged for forgiveness, he begged for pity and mercy. Sobs racked his pleas, turning into agonized screams as the pain worsened.

The king would hear none of it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Murtagh, the king appeared to get bored and released the magic holding Murtagh in place. "Let that be a lesson to you," Galbatorix threw over his shoulder as he walked toward the door. "I will talk with you again tomorrow as I have a new assignment for you."

As soon as Galbatorix had left the room, Murtagh collapsed onto the stone floor. He shook violently, tears still streaming down his face. Slowly he brought his hand up to his face. The skin around his palm was charred black beyond recognition. He could not see the Gedwey Ignasia. He managed to stutter out the healing words _waise heill_ amid gasping breaths, and watched through blurry eyes as his skin slowly began to fix itself. Murtagh could feel the magic draining his already diminished energy. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his shaking limbs. Minutes later, he opened his eyes and stared down at his hand, another sob escaping his throat.

His palm, though healed, was stretched thin with scarring from the burning, completely obscuring his Gedwey Ignasia.

**So there is chapter sixteen! I've decided I want to finish this story before ****Brisingr**** comes out, if possible, so hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. **

**Review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter! I'm so sorry it has taken this long to update. I have no excuse other than homework, homework, more homework, and cyberschool. I also have to thank the people who messaged me to write this chapter, as your messages actually did make me write a little every time I got one. So thanks! And here is the next chapter… Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****Eragon****, ****Eldest****, or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Seventeen:

The next day, Galbatorix was true to his word and summoned Murtagh to his throne room. Murtagh walked slowly down the corridors, each step filling him with more dread. It did not help matters that he had severed his contact with Thorn. He did not want to talk to his dragon and he realized it was probably because of what had happened the day before.

Murtagh looked down at his bandaged hand and sighed heavily. He had not yet told Thorn what had occurred, and was afraid of what Thorn would think. It had been easy enough concealing his displeasure of having a dragon when Thorn was young, because Thorn had not understood. And as Thorn had grown, Murtagh's anger and hatred had slowly begun to dissipate. But no matter how he looked at it and no matter how much it pained him to admit it, Murtagh still wished Thorn had never hatched for him. And that was what Galbatorix had seen.

Reaching the throne room doors, Murtagh knocked and walked inside. Galbatorix sat waiting upon his throne, staring coolly down at Murtagh. Resisting the urge to flinch under the king's gaze, Murtagh trudged forward until he stood in front of Galbatorix. Avoiding the king's stare, Murtagh bowed slightly, waiting for instructions. When Galbatorix offered no words, Murtagh spoke quietly. "You summoned me, my lord?"

Once again, Murtagh felt the power and strength of Galbatorix's gaze upon his face. He longed to return to his quarters, but forced himself to stand still. And the king continued to stare at him as if Murtagh were divulging all of his thoughts. Nervousness closed in on Murtagh. It was one thing when the king was angry, but an entirely different thing when he was calm and placid. Murtagh did not know which one he feared the most.

"Murtagh."

Murtagh licked his dry lips. "Yes, my lord?"

The king remained silent, continuing to stare at him. After a moment he began to speak slowly. "It is amazing what you can find out from people's minds, what they really think, what they actually know, how they feel…" he trailed off. Murtagh swallowed past the dryness in his mouth. Was the king referring to what he had found out yesterday? Before Murtagh could wonder anymore, Galbatorix continued on. "While Eragon was here, I found a particularly interesting piece of information from his mind. One that I intend to fully use to my advantage."

Murtagh looked at Galbatorix, his eyes curious despite the sense of foreboding. He realized that this could not end well. Having been told by Galbatorix the previous day that he was going to get a new assignment, there was no way it could be a good thing. However, the fact that Eragon had brought it about was slightly intriguing.

"While you were away on your holiday with the Varden," Galbatorix began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "did you hear about the blessing Eragon performed on a baby?"

Murtagh racked his brain. He had tried so hard to repress the memories of the Varden – it only caused more pain to have tasted freedom and have it taken away – but yes, he did vaguely recall hearing about the blessing. Just rumours, given that he was hidden away, but now it appeared to be a truth. "I did," he finally answered. "Only vaguely, but yes, I remember hearing about it."

Galbatorix nodded his head. "I thought as much. But I suppose Eragon never got around to telling you that he actually did not bless the girl, but cursed her."

Murtagh stared in shock, as Galbatorix's lips curled into a smile. "Eragon, it seems, was not quite as adept as he believed himself to be when he blessed the girl. Instead of saying that she should be shielded from danger, he said that she should be a shield for danger. Now, whenever someone is about to be injured or hurt, she is compelled to place their well-being above her own and save them from the pain, even if it results in her own death."

Murtagh blinked, his eyes wide. What an awful fate! To have your own will taken away from you. To be forced, to be compelled to do something you did not want to do. Recognition hit Murtagh like a ton of bricks. "No," he said stubbornly, "I won't do it."

Galbatorix's eyes glittered in the soft light of the throne room. "Oh yes," he said quietly. "I have thought this through long and hard. If I am to go into battle, I shall need a bodyguard, and what better person than my right hand man?"

"No," Murtagh said forcefully. "I will not do it." Suddenly, the king's other words registered in his mind. "You – you're going into battle?"

Galbatorix's eyes took on a hint of malice. "It is the opportune time. Since Eragon's escape, and the Varden's subsequent tales of heroism, people have begun flocking to Surda. Well, I shall soon put a stop to it. I have already begun conscripting all able-bodied men from the corners of the land, and after Arya completes her part of the plan, it will be the best time to strike. The Varden will fall, and I shall have no opposition."

"When Arya completes her part of the plan?" Murtagh echoed weakly, his face draining of colour.

"Yes, that is the beauty of the plan," Galbatorix said. "I have recently received information from a source in the Black Hand that Eragon is on his way to Aberon, where the Varden are currently residing. However, upon his arrival, he will discover that Nasuada, the Varden's leader, has been assassinated. That is where Arya comes in. She has the trust of Nasuada, and will carry out my plan when they are alone. When the followers of the Varden learn of their leader's death, they will fall into chaos. Even Eragon will not be able to save them. And not only that, but I will be able to expose them to the people of Alagaesia for the rebels that they are. People will stop siding with them, and will join us in the final fight. With the Varden in such disarray, it will be the best time to initiate a fight. The Varden will have no leader, the dwarves will be undecided about their allegiance, and the elves are still too far away and will be easily taken care of after the battle."

Murtagh could only stare in shock. "But…," he trailed off, unable to come up with any words. The horror of the situation was just beginning to sink in. It was the perfect plan. The king was right. With Nasuada gone, the Varden would be in a state of chaos, and vulnerable to attack. "But, what of yourself? Would you ride into battle? What if you were injured?"

The king grinned toothily. "That is where you come in, Murtagh. With someone protecting me at all times I will be invulnerable, and will be able to take care of that brother of yours once and for all." Galbatorix stood up and began pacing in front of Murtagh. "So, I shall outline for you _exactly_ what I would like you to say in the ancient language. Remember, there will be consequences should you prove uncooperative… First of all, I would like you to say that should anyone try to attack me physically, you will immediately take my place and fight off that individual or die trying. Secondly, if I am assaulted by magic, you will block the attacks or perish trying to stop them. Any sort of attack at all and you will protect me. If this involves killing anyone, you will do it without hesitation. My life is more important than everyone else's. Do you understand?" The glare of the king pierced through Murtagh.

Murtagh bit his lip as he tried to mask his horror. There was no way out of it. The king had left no loopholes. In insuring his own life, the king had forfeited Murtagh's. Win or lose for the Empire, Murtagh would lose. If Galbatorix won, then Murtagh would still be forced to serve under him. If the Varden won, Murtagh would die in the battle protecting a king he did not even want to fight with.

Galbatorix was looking at Murtagh expectantly, with an air of impatience. Murtagh tried to even his breathing. His hands curled into fists at his sides. Life was so unfair! His dragon would never taste freedom. He would never again be free. The injustice of it all came crashing down on Murtagh.

"No. I won't do what you propose."

Galbatorix's smile, if possible, got even sweeter. "You will do what I tell you to do, Murtagh."

"No, I won't."

The king was by Murtagh's side in an instant, his hand around Murtagh's throat. Murtagh strained to bring oxygen into his lungs. He struggled against the king's grasp, but Galbatorix held him firmly, forcing Murtagh to look at him. Murtagh's vision blurred as the cruel eyes glared down at him, mocking him. Gradually, Murtagh's vision darkened, and he felt himself starting to slip from reality. Just as everything became totally dark, Murtagh felt himself fall to the ground as the king released his grip. Hitting the floor with a dull thud, Murtagh desperately sucked in air.

After a moment, Murtagh dared to glance up at the king. Galbatorix was pinching the bridge of his nose, his expression deep in thought. "I have had quite enough of your antics, Murtagh," he finally spoke. "I have tolerated your behaviour and temper tantrums quite well in the past, I believe, but today you will do what I wish. Have I not provided you with a nice home? With protection? I gave you Thorn. I have given you food and clothing. Without me, you would be nothing." Galbatorix paused. "Yes, today you shall do what I want. I would punish you for your insolence, but seeing as how I need you awake to give me your oath, that shall have to wait for later."

Murtagh remained silent, holding his breath. He knew what was coming, and was not disappointed. A minute later when the king called upon him using his true name, Murtagh could not help but obey. He muttered oaths in the ancient language as set down by the king, hating himself for every word that was pulled from his mouth.

After Galbatorix had finished with his commands, he dismissed Murtagh with a wave of his hand. When he turned away, Murtagh quietly made his way to the door. His shoulders slumped and his feet trudged slowly across the stone floor. There was a pain in his chest, and an incredible aching in his throat. Once out of the room, Murtagh fled to his quarters. Once safely in his own corridor, he ran down the passageway. Glancing quickly at the door of the room that Eragon had occupied, Murtagh choked softly and hastily opened his door, shutting it quietly behind him. As he slid down to the floor, a single tear left a trail on his cheek.

-----

Eragon sighed and fidgeted impatiently. After arriving in Cithri he had sent word to Aberon and Nasuada about his escape from Galbatorix. While he wanted to continue on, the leader of the army in Cithri had refused to let him through without protection. Knowing that travelling with the army would only slow him down, Eragon had refused as politely as he could, and he was awaiting word from Nasauda instructing him what to do.

Staring around the marketplace, Eragon scrutinized the actions of those around him, brushing against the consciousnesses of the people. Thoughts of the war, hunger, and smaller, trivial problems filled his mind until he pulled away from the contact. Every person was a potential threat to Eragon, and he refused to be caught unawares by some agent of Galbatorix when he had evaded the king in his own land. Suppressing another sigh, Eragon cautiously let his mind wander into the thoughts of those around him again.

"Shadeslayer."

Eragon looked up into the weathered face of the leader of Cithri's army. Brushing aside his irritation, Eragon raised his eyebrows in question, indicating that the man should continue.

"It is not safe outside for one as such stature as yourself. If I may be so bold as to suggest that you retire to your quarters, it would be much easier on myself and my men. We would be in great trouble if you were to die on our watch and-"

"I just escaped from captivity," Eragon interrupted. "I will do as I please, when I please it-"

_ERAGON!_

The sudden roar in Eragon's head cut off all of Eragon's thoughts and words. The sound was so unexpected, but filled with joy it brought tears to Eragon's eyes. The leader of the army looked at Eragon, then spun around staring at everyone nearby, fearing an attack from one of Galbatorix's magician. Yelling for support, the leader roughly seized Eragon by the shoulders and heaved him to his feet, dragging him toward the nearest doorway.

"What are you doing?" Eragon shouted at the man, before murmuring softly in his mind, _Saphira_?

The leader of the army gawked at Eragon. "Why, I believed you to be under attack, Argetlam. If I have overstepped my boundaries, it is because I do not want the one chance we have at survival once again kneeling before the feet of that accursed king!"

_Eragon!_ The voice again filled Eragon's head, making him giddy with joy. How he had longed to hear that voice again. That voice which he thought he would never hear again. The voice of Saphira.

"I am not under attack," Eragon replied happily. "Just surprised. Look," he added, pointing into the sky where a bright blue dot could be seen angling towards them. "If you'll excuse me," he added courteously. Before the leader could answer, Eragon ran off, towards the exit of the city. Once through the gate, Eragon ran to the open field Saphira had projected to him in his mind. Eragon sprinted as fast as could. The wind rushed past his ears, whistling, as he continued, gaining more and more ground from the city of Cithri. Soon, it was a mere dot on the back of the horizon. Not long afterwards, he spotted a brilliant blue sheen on a nearby hill. Increasing his speed, Eragon reached the spot in a matter of moments and barrelled straight into the giant blue dragon, flinging his arms around as much of her as he could.

_Saphira!_ He cried out happily. _I've missed you so much…_

_And I you, little one_, Saphira replied. She curled her wing gently around Eragon. _Why do you cry?_

_I thought I would never see you again. Murtagh thought that you were dead. Galbatorix seemed to think that you were dead. And I couldn't hear you. _

Saphira's mood abruptly changed. _Did they hurt you?_ She asked fiercely, her lips stretching to reveal her jagged teeth.

Eragon paused, his emotions choking him. _They- Murtagh._

_I will kill them all for having hurt you_, Saphira said angrily. Her wing closed tighter around Eragon. _I would not be able to continue on if anything had happened to you. I will never leave you again, Eragon. Ever. And I shall never participate in such a brainless scheme as we last did together. _

Eragon bit his lip, his joy at having been reunited with Saphira tainted by a remembrance of Roran's death. "How is Katrina?" he asked aloud, quietly.

_Anxious for the return of you and Roran…_ Saphira replied, trailing off. When Eragon remained silent she nudged him gently with her nose, her long head snaking back around to where he stood.

_Roran is dead_, Eragon said abruptly. _Galbatorix killed him._ His voice, though controlled, betrayed his emotions. _I couldn't stop him_, Eragon continued, whispering through their connection. _He wanted me to pledge fealty, he tried everything to get it. He – he also killed Murtagh, Saphira._

_Good riddance. One less enemy to worry about_, Saphira said.

Eragon stared down at the ground miserably. _Yeah, one less enemy…_

The pair remained silent for a few moments, enjoying the solitude of their individual thoughts. Eventually, Saphira spoke again. _We better continue to Aberon, Eragon. Nasuada allowed me only to come because she realized how much faster you would get there if I were to find you. She cautioned me to return to the city as soon as I had found you, and we have already been missed._ She pointed her head in the direction of Cithri. Looking back, Eragon could make out a group of silhouettes on the nearest hill, standing still like sentries. Sighing, Eragon quickly agreed to Saphira's words and climbed up onto her back. As Saphira lifted herself into the air, an unexpected giddiness rose in Eragon and he let out a whoop of joy.

------------------------

Arya quietly made her way through the mass of tents outside of Aberon that housed the Varden. Although her steps were graceful, she faltered more than usual, tripping over things that she would not normally ever trip over. Her hands grew more and more clammy the closer she moved toward Nasuada. Stopping, she briefly closed her eyes in order to calm herself. She would do what needed to be done. She had no choice. And even if she couldn't, he would. He would take control, take control of her and use her to kill Nasuada.

Urging her legs forward once again, Arya reached Nasuada's tent. Just outside stood Farica, Nasuada's maid, who quickly curtsied to the elf. "I will tell Lady Nasuada of your presence, Lady Arya," the woman spoke quietly. She retreated into the mouth of the tent to emerge a few moments later, ushering Arya inside. She quickly left, murmuring about clothes that needed to be gathered.

"Arya," Nasuada said, her voice coming from the far end of the tent. "Have you heard the good news? Eragon has made it to Cithri! He escaped from Galbatorix and managed to cross the Empire and reach us. Saphira has gone to meet with him, and bring him back here. It seems you were not needed to go and rescue him after all." She chuckled warmly. "Although we do thank you for your effort. Without him, we would have no hope."

"It was my pleasure," Arya replied quietly, her eyes flashing around the room. She moved further in, closer to Nasuada. "You forget that Eragon is my one hope, too. I would do anything to preserve that. There is too much at risk to let Galbatorix gain control of him."

"Yes," Nasuada agreed solemnly. Her bright eyes shone toward Arya, becoming troubled as they took in Arya's expression. "Are you feeling ill, Arya?" She asked, rising from her chair. She took a step toward Arya, her eyes concerned.

Arya felt the dark magic pulsing in her mind. She took a step closer to Nasuada, who looked at her quizzically. "I'm sorry," she said, and took another step closer, murmuring words in the ancient language as she did so. Nasuada, her eyes wide with shock, had begun to reach down to dagger in her boot. Her hand did not make it that far however, as the death words poured out of Arya's mouth. Arya caught Nasuada as she slumped to the ground, lowering her gently.

Taking one last look at the leader of the Varden, Arya remorsefully turned away, her eyes full of tears. Blinking them away, she heard the king's words echoing in her head, telling her to remove anyone who might suspect her of Nasuada's death. Images of Farica filled Arya's head and filled with self-loathing she set off in search of the maid, leaving Nasuada behind on the cold, earthen floor, her eyes frozen in a look of betrayal.

---------------------

**So there is chapter seventeen. I'm kindof undecided about whether I like it or not, but since I haven't updated in months, I'm just going to go with it. Once again, I'm so sorry it took such a long time to update. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, but as you can probably tell, they usually take longer than I think they will. I'll try really hard to get the next one up fast though, because I think there will only be about four or five more chapters in the story.**

**Review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter! Once again, sorry it has taken so long to update. School has been crazy, but now that it's Christmas break I'm hoping to finish up this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****Eragon****, ****Eldest****, Brisingr**** or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's.**

Chapter Eighteen:

The sky was a brilliant blue. Eragon smiled happily as Saphira flew through the clouds. The pair was on their way back to Aberon to meet with Nasuada and King Orrin. As they flew, Saphira told Eragon about all the latest happenings of the Varden.

_Do you think Nasuada will be upset? _Eragon asked Saphira. _Does she think I betrayed the Varden like Murtagh?_

_She was worried about you_, Saphira answered. _She never believed that you would give up our secrets._ There was a slight pause until Saphira asked outright,_ You didn't, did you?_

_Of course not!_ Eragon said indignantly.

For a few more hours the pair flew onward toward Aberon. Soon they came into view, much to the delight of the Varden camped there and the citizens of the city. In excitement Saphira flew around the city a few times, entertaining the crowd and showing off the Rider on her back, to the amusement of all. Finally, she angled her body and dove toward the ground.

Laughing, Eragon unbuckled his legs from Saphira's saddle and jumped to the ground. Jormundur hurried forward, his face unusually unmasked and open. His eyes were red, and he quickly grabbed Eragon by the arm and dragged him away from the crowd that was jostling forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the returned Rider.

When they had distanced themselves a bit from the crowd, Jormundur pulled Eragon into a tent and let the curtains fall behind them. It was only then that Jormundur sank into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands, quietly sobbing.

Eragon looked in dismay at the man. "What is wrong, Jormundur?" he asked quietly, murmuring an additional phrase in the ancient language to prevent any eavesdroppers from hearing their conversation.

It took a moment for Jormundur to calm himself down. "I am sorry, Shadeslayer, but you see, Ajihad was a dear friend of mine and Nasuada…" he trailed off.

"Nasauda?" Eragon questioned sharply. "What does Nasauada have to do with this?"

Jormundur looked up, his face suddenly angry. "She has been murdered, Eragon."

Eragon stared at the man, numbly. _Saphira?_

_I heard what he said. And whoever has done this terrible deed shall pay._

"When?" Eragon asked weakly.

"Not long after Saphira left to find you. We also found her maid, Farica, dead. Both have no external wounds. It was someone proficient in magic, no doubt."

Eragon managed to nod his head. "Who else knows this?"

"King Orrin, a few of his counsellors, Arya, and myself along with the Council of Elders."

Eragon sighed inwardly. _Saphira, what should we do?_

_I think we must look over the situation carefully and see where we stand. The Council of Elders will want a new leader chosen as soon as possible, as will Surda. And if you were to accept the leadership, there is no doubt that they will want to control you and use us as a means to gain control._

_Aye_, Eragon agreed carefully. _We shall have to talk-_

"The Council of Elders has agreed to hold an emergency meeting tonight to discuss the available leadership position," Jormundur continued. "Eragon, I believe you should take it. You are the only one fit for the position of all the Varden, and only you have a hope of actually beating Galbatorix."

Eragon looked over at Jormundur warily. "I appreciate that, but I must consider all of my obligations, not only to the Varden, but to the elves and the dwarves as well."

"Aye," Jormundur agreed, sounding tired. "I shall have someone summon you when the meeting is to begin."

"Thank you," Eragon said. "Have you seen Arya by any chance? I would like to speak with her for a moment."

"My guess is that she is within her tent. Many of us are wary with a traitor walking around freely. Please be careful, Shadeslayer, you are the Varden's only hope."

Eragon nodded in affirmation and quickly took his leave. _What do you think, Saphira?_

_I think that we must be careful. Someone may be using this as a trap to get our allegiance. I would not put it past some of the Council of Elders to murder their own leader in an attempt to gain our fealty._

_But none of them can perform magic_, Eragon interjected. _At least that I know of. And Jormundur said that Nasuada was killed by magical means._

_Nevertheless it would be foolish to overlook something. You know they have not been happy with us since Ajihad's death. I think we should ask Arya her advice on the matter. She helped us last time and will no doubt want to do not only what is in the elves' best interest, but also the Varden's._

_I agree. But Saphira, I am not sure I am ready to lead the Varden. _

_If you must, you must. I would not like to see Ajihad and Nasuada's work be in vain. I am sure you would make a better leader than most people. But do not despair over what has yet come to pass. We will find a solution._

_Yes, I believe we will. I just hope that it is the right solution. _"Arya?" Eragon called out, approaching the tent that had been given to the elf.

Arya's face appeared from behind the flap, her eyes clearly troubled. "So you have returned, Shadeslayer. We must talk."

---------------------

Murtagh stared in frustration at the soldier in front of him. "Fight!" he shouted angrily. The soldier was cowering in fright on his knees before Murtagh. When the man would not stand up, Murtagh turned his back and stalked away. For days Murtagh had been training Galbatorix's new recruits, only to find that they were too scared of him to do anything. The king was becoming impatient, which did not bode well with Murtagh, who usually did whatever it took to avoid the king's bad side.

_Murtagh_, a cold voice sounded in his head. _Come immediately to the throne room_.

_Yes, your highness_, Murtagh thought bitterly. He slowly continued toward the castle, prolonging the inevitable and knowing that he would just make Galbatorix even angrier.

_Do not provoke him,_ Thorn's voice chided gently in Murtagh's head. _He is already upset at you._

_You think I don't know that? _Murtagh spat into their mental bond. He felt Thorn pull away slightly before he quickly added, _I'm sorry, Thorn. It's just that-_

_Murtagh, where are you?_ Galbatorix's voice sounded in his mind. _Get in here, now!_

Murtagh waited until Galbatorix had withdrawn from his mind to say quietly, _I'm just sorry, Thorn._

_Go,_ Thorn urged. _You know I'm here._

_Right_, Murtagh answered warily, pushing open the huge doors leading into the throne room.

"Ah Murtagh, so nice of you to finally join us" the king mocked as Murtagh entered, releasing a painful memory.

"_Is it not nice, Arya?" the king questioned. Murtagh looked over, his eyes passing over those of the elf's he had helped rescue. "I do believe that you two already know each other…" Galbatorix trailed off, grinning._

_All Murtagh could do was stare at Arya in betrayal. The chains around Murtagh's hands jerked him forward until he was standing right in front of Galbatorix where he was forced to kneel before the king._

"_That's better," Galbatorix said, laughing. "Seeing you like that reminds me of your father. Only you will be better than your father and far more useful to me than he ever was. With the help of your lovely friend, of course." Here the king's eyes shifted towards Arya._

"_I have waited for this since the moment I learned of your escape," Galbatorix continued. "That was not a very polite thing to do. After all those years of caring for you and raising you as if you were a son of my own. To spite me like that... I have learned that I cannot trust you, Murtagh Morzansson, and for that I must unfortunately force you into my service."_

_Murtagh breathed heavily, staring in defiance at the man before him. It had been many weeks since the king had promised him this. Many weeks since the king and the Twins had broken through his mental barriers. Many weeks that he had stayed in a damp dungeon where the only light came from a dim candle down the corridor that he could not even see. Many weeks that he had been tortured and beaten…_

_The king broke easily through his mental barriers, causing the young man to cry out in pain. "Arya?" Galbatorix spoke. And then Murtagh felt another presence in his mind. One fleeting and quick, but capable of destruction and pain. A mind so vast and powerful Murtagh cringed away from it, even though he could tell that the elf was doing all she could not to cause him more pain than necessary._

_It took only a few moments. And in those moments Murtagh's whole life was destroyed and remolded._

_Arya withdrew from his mind and walked quickly over to the king, speaking quietly. Galbatorix's eyes lit up and he turned to grin at Murtagh. And Murtagh stared up at him in fear and hate. He did not even hear the words leave the king's lips, but felt an odd detachment from himself. It was as if he had no control over himself, over his very actions. He was no longer Murtagh, but someone else entirely. Someone else who swore allegiance to the king, who listened to the king and performed his every order. Someone else entirely._

_The traitor._

"Murtagh," Galbatorix's voice brought Murtagh back to the present and he blushed furiously as he hurried to his seat beside the king. Along either side of the king's table sat various army generals, all staring at him intently.

"Sorry, my king" Murtagh said hastily, adding a quick bow. "I was talking with Thorn."

"Do not lie to me, Murtagh," the king said sternly. "But enough of this, you have wasted enough of our time already. I called you hear to tell you that you are to lead an army toward Surda tomorrow morning at first light. Thorn shall accompany you, of course. When you are positioned and have begun to fight the Varden, you shall lure Eragon to fight with you, at which point I will fly out and join you. From there on, I have already discussed my measures of security surround myself with you. Do you remember them?"

"Yes, my liege," Murtagh answered bitterly.

"Very well, you would do well to heed them," Galbatorix answered before turning back the generals surrounding his table.

For hours Murtagh listened to the men conversing. Strategic landpoints that could not afford to fall into enemy hands, gathering points, weapon distribution points. The list was unending.

Finally Galbatorix dismissed the men, and Murtagh eagerly left the room. The first part of Galbatorix's plan had been completed and the Varden was apparently in chaos, according to Galbatorix's spies in Surda.

_Thorn, we fly tomorrow for Surda,_ Murtagh said, his voice devoid of emotion. _At first light._

_Of course_, Thorn answered quickly. _Murtagh…_

_I must get to sleep, Thorn,_ Murtagh said quietly through their mental link, slowly closing their connection. Once in his quarters Murtagh shut the door behind him. Various sconces around the room held candles that cast shadows on the walls. Murtagh slowly walked around the room, one by one blowing out the flames. Soon the room was completely dark, and if he had not been able to climb into the plush four-poster bed, Murtagh could almost believe that he was back in the king's dungeon.

-------------------

Eragon shook his head, trying to clear the muddled thoughts in his brain. He, along with the Council of Elders, had been trying for hours to come up with a solution for the void of leadership in the Varden. Besides himself, they had not come up with many options other than one of themselves, such as Jormundur, as leader. However, Jormundur did not wish to lead the Varden, and had already voiced his support for Eragon. Several of the elders had been arguing for hours over the pros and cons of having Eragon lead the Varden. Most appeared to be in favour, but Eragon was not even sure he wanted to, especially if he had to work with the council. Just sitting with them for one evening was enough for him to want to yell out in frustration.

"We must consider the leader best for all the races united against Galbatorix," Jormundur was currently arguing. "Eragon knows the elves, is practically a dwarf, and has talked to various kulls. In addition, the people of the Varden love him. What more could anyone want?"

"He has never been in charge of this many people. He would be inadept and surely lead the Varden to its demise. Especially if he manages to get killed, or captured again. What would the Varden do with a captured leader? In charge he would be capable of giving away all of our secrets," another member countered.

Saphira growled in Eragon's head. _I grow weary of their talking. Let us end this meeting._

_Are you sure Saphira? I have not consulted with Orik about how the dwarves may respond. I am sure Surda will be supportive, as will the elves as Arya promised, but I feel it will only end badly. Some of their words contain truths, and I am not sure I am ready for such responsibility._

_We are ready. And do not worry about the Council of Elders. I will make certain that they do not sway your decisions, lest I have to eat a few of them. No, I think that the only way to make certain that the Varden does not fall into the wrong hands is to have it in our hands. This way, we shall be able to do as we please, when we please._

_Aye,_ Eragon agreed. _I shall tell them of our decision._

Standing up, Eragon waited until all eyes were on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced around. "I have decided that I will accept the leadership if the council believes it is for the best. I would strive to lead the Varden as Ajihad and Nasuada did before me, and I believe that I have learned quite a bit from them. As well, I shall have the guidance of Saphira and the support of the elves. I have yet to talk to the dwarves, but I am certain they too will be supportive, as well as Surda." Sitting back down, he cracked his knuckles nervously.

"I second that and believe Eragon will make an excellent leader," Jormundur stated. Various other members echoed their agreement. Taking count, Jormundur soon pronounced Eragon leader.

"I will do my best," Eragon promised, "But I will not answer to the council. I will take your advice, but that is all. All decisions will be made by myself with the help of Saphira. And as for now, I am tired and must rest. We shall discuss this matter further tomorrow." Getting up from his chair, Eragon bid the shocked group goodnight and walked out.

_I am proud of you_, Saphira told him.

_Let us just hope that I have not made a whole bunch of my allies my enemies._

-------------------------

The next morning, Murtagh woke up early. He quickly donned his tunic, grabbed his armour, packed his saddlebags and headed out to Thorn. Belting Zar'roc to his hip, he climbed up into Thorn's saddle and strapped in his legs.

_Murtagh._ A chill ran up Murtagh's spine as Galbatorix's voice filled his head.

_Yes, my king?_ he answered reluctantly.

_The Varden are about to fall. I will not tolerate mistakes or excuses from you this time. Disobey me and I will make your life more miserable and painful than it has ever been before…_ He let the threat hang in the air for a moment. _Do you understand?_

_Perfectly_, Murtagh responded coldly, a slight smile coming to his face as Thorn's head twisted around to give him a chiding look. However, Galbatorix let the remark pass and soon Murtagh felt him withdraw from his mind, breathing a sigh of relief as he did so.

_Let us be off, Thorn._

Thorn immediately jumped into the air letting out a roar as he did so, scattering the dozens of soldiers standing around the pair. Murtagh could not help but grin as he watched the soldiers cower beneath he and Thorn. Slowly and self-consciously the soldiers moved back into formation and began marching southward, the ruby dragon flying above them. For a while, Murtagh and Thorn stayed with the group, and then they began flying further and further distances away, Murtagh feeling more free the further he got from Uru'baen.

-------------------------

Sighing, Eragon pushed his hair back from his forehead. Being leader of the Varden was more work than he had bargained for, and furthermore, he found the small, everyday crimes he was forced to deal with petty and annoying. Who cared what person stole a chicken when the Varden could cease to exist at any moment, crushed by Galbatorix.

Taking a break, Eragon strolled around the Varden's camp looking for Saphira. As he walked, a young messenger ran up, his breathing ragged. "I have… been searching for… you everywhere… Shadeslayer." Eragon looked at him quizzically, arching his eyebrow to suggest that the boy should continue. "There is urgent news… that Jormundur must speak to you about… at once." Thanking the boy, Eragon hurried off in the direction of Jormundur's tent.

Walking in Eragon could see Jormundur busily studying maps. "Oh, thank the lords you have come!" Jormundur exclaimed. "We have just received reports from several patrols out in Alagaesia that there is a massive army marching toward Surda. From the reports, it appears that the whole nation is marching toward us. I fear that Galbatorix has finally decided to launch an offensive and destroy the Varden and Surda once and for all."

Eragon could only stare in shock. Finally, he managed to speak. "Where are these armies marching from?"

Jormundur rubbed his hands nervously. "We have several reports of large masses of soldiers in Feinster, heading in a south-easterly direction, as well as from Furnost, Melian and Uru'baen itself."

"How many?" Eragon could not help but ask.

"Many," Jormundur said tiredly. "More than all the Varden and Surda put together. It appears that Galbatorix has conscripted men from every town, village and city, and is marching them toward Surda. As a result, his army numbers in the upper thousands. Perhaps as many as one million men. And there have been sightings of the Red Rider flying this way…"

"What?!" Eragon gasped. "That isn't possible! I saw the king kill Murtagh. I saw Galbatorix murder him. I saw it!"

Jormundur looked at Eragon apprehensively. "Well, either the Red Rider is still alive, or the king has found a replacement and convinced the dragon to let another person ride him. For the patrol was certain it was a ruby red dragon flying with Galbatorix's troops."

Eragon looked at Jormundur in dismay. "What do I do?" he groaned. "I cannot ask the Varden to sacrifice their lives, their children. And Surda. Even with the dwarves and elves' help we cannot hope to match their strength in numbers."

"We must try," Jormundur encouraged. "I for one will not live under Galbatorix, and neither will many of the other men, women and children here. The only thing we can do is fight."

Eragon shook his head sadly. Despite his attempts not to have a catastrophic battle, it appeared there would be. Blood would be shed, innocent blood. And then there was Murtagh. Finally, Eragon said the only thing he could say, "Ready the troops and prepare for battle."

-------------------

It took just over a week for Murtagh and his army to reach the edge of Surda. Too long, and yet not long enough. He could see that the Surda had been warned of the attack and had prepared, for not one hundred meters in the distance he could see an army, along with the flags of the Varden.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he undid the straps of Thorn's saddle and jumped off the dragon. He was to send a soldier forward with one final offer of peace toward the enemy, not that he believed the Varden and Surdans would surrender. They had fought too long and too hard to simply give up. And none of them would trust the king's peace offerings.

Murtagh ran his eyes over the dozens of soldiers standing before him. Selecting one that looked capable of such a mission, and one whom the Varden might be reluctant to kill, he strode up to the young man. "You shall go and offer the Varden this message," Murtagh ordered, handing the wide-eyed boy a scroll written by Galbatorix. Giving him a horse, he sent the boy away.

----------------------

"Hold your fire!" Eragon ordered the archers, seeing a lone figure racing across the field between the two armies. The figure was bent low over the horse, straining it forward. As the figure got closer, Eragon could see the sweat pouring off the young man's face. The horse slowed down as it got closer to the Varden's side, and Eragon could see uncertainty on the face of the man. Striding forward, Eragon went to stand at the front of the line, Saphira not far behind him.

"What is your business?" Eragon yelled to the man, who still remained a fair distance away.

"I- I have a message of peace from His Royal Highness," the man responded, his face white with fear.

"Bring it forward," Eragon commanded. "Make no attempts to attack anyone, and we shall not attack you."

For a moment, Eragon was unsure of whether the man would obey, or if he had even heard at all, but finally he saw the man urge the horse forward cautiously. Jormundur was about to send another man forward to obtain the scroll when Eragon stopped him and strode forward himself.

_Perhaps we can delay the war for a few more days, Saphira. Arya has sent word to the elves of the situation, and King Orrin has already sent word to the dwarves. If we can postpone the fighting for a couple days we may withstand this ordeal._

_Agreed,_ Saphira answered. _We have no hopes of beating both Galbatorix and Murtagh without help from spellcasters. Du Vrangr Gata_ _cannot help us at all, except against Galbatorix's pet magicians._

_Aye…_

Walking forward Eragon greeted the man and accepted the scroll. Opening it, he quickly read over the words and pretended to think about it for a moment. "Your king offers a good deal," he absentmindedly told the man.

The young man licked his lips nervously. "What shall I say is your reply?"

Eragon pretended to think it over a moment more. "I shall have to ponder this for a few days."

Galbatorix's soldier blinked. "I'm not sure my king will like that."

"Well, if he doesn't, he will just have to attack us I suppose. For I need a few days to think about his proposal. Tell your leader that I shall need a couple of days to think about what has been written."

The man seemed unsure of what to do, but eventually seemed to decide that it was not his problem. "Aye," he agreed. "I will tell my leader what you have said." He turned his horse around.

"Wait!" Eragon called out just as the man was about to start riding. "Tell me, are you loyal to the king? Or are you one of the conscripted men?"

Uncertainty once again flickered in the man's eyes, and he glanced toward the Varden. "I do not fight for the king, but to keep my family safe. That is all. And if I had it my way I would not be here right now."

Eragon smiled. "That heartens me. Perhaps you can tell me one more thing. Is the Red Rider with your army?"

"Yes," the man answered quickly, looking back toward his own army.

Eragon felt his heart fall. "Thank you. And please tell your leader of my request for a few more days to think over this decision."

"I will," the soldier promised before turning and urging his horse back toward Galbatorix's army.

_Hopefully that will buy us a few more days,_ Eragon said to Saphira warily.

_All we can do is hope._

------------------------

Murtagh sought out the man he had sent to the Varden as soon as he returned. "What say the leader of the Varden to Galbatorix's message?" he asked sharply.

"He requires a few more days to think over the proposal, Red Rider," the soldier replied.

Murtagh stared at the man until he fidgeted under the look. "Dismissed," Murtagh finally said, and the man quickly left.

_Thorn?_

_The king shall not be happy about this. You better contact him before-_

_Murtagh,_ the king's voice echoed in his head.

Sighing, Murtagh looked over at Thorn, rolling his eyes. _Yes, my liege?_

_Has there been a reply to my offering?_

Murtagh hesitated, and Galbatorix immediately spoke again. _Just as I expected, they will not listen to reason. It is just as well, for I would have to keep an eye on them even if they were assimilated into villages and cities. _As Galbatorix rifled through Murtagh's memories of what the soldier had said was Eragon's reply, he became angrier and angrier. _Does he think I am stupid?_ the king roared in Murtagh's head. _That I will give him days so that his army can grow in size?! Well, I shall give him no satisfaction. Murtagh, attack the Varden! Attack the Surdans! I want them destroyed so that there is not one man, woman or child left. They shall be wiped clean from my land, and it will once again prosper in peace without them wreaking terror on my people. Do you understand?_

_Yes_, Murtagh whispered.

_DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! _Galbatorix screamed into Murtagh's head. _Destroy them all!_

_Yes,_ Murtagh said, his voice hardening.

_I shall soon be flying out to meet you. I expect that you will have Eragon alone by then._

_Yes, my lord, _Murtagh answered, his voice heavy as Galbatorix pulled away from his mind.

For a few moments after the king's presence had left his mind, Murtagh stood rooted in spot.

_Are you alright?_ Thorn asked gingerly, walking to where Murtagh stood and hitting him gently with his snout.

Murtagh did not answer, his eyes staring out across the wide field toward the Varden and Surda. Toward his brother and the people who had once been his friends. Toward hope and freedom. It was so close he could almost taste it. He yearned to fly over on Thorn, but knew his bonds would prevent it. So Murtagh did the only thing he could do. The thing that he had been ordered to. The one thing he knew how to do.

Fight.

Striding away from Thorn he gathered Galbatorix's soldiers around him. "We have been given the order to attack. Capture no prisoners, leave no one alive." His voice was devoid of emotion, flat and monotonous. "Prepare yourself, we shall attack in one hour."

The hour passed much to quickly. Soon the minutes had ticked away and Murtagh sat atop Thorn, both fitted with armour bearing the insignia of Galbatorix's army. Finally, unable to delay any longer, Murtagh told Thorn to take to the sky. Magnifying his voice magically so that all of the king's soldiers could hear, Murtagh yelled out a battle cry.

In the midst of the echoing cries of the men below him, he issued one final command.

"Charge!"

Murtagh watched the men begin to race across the field grimly. From the sky he could see the front men of the Varden start reacting to the motion rushing toward them. Soon the sound of metal on metal filled the air.

The final battle had begun.

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**So, there is that chapter. It was one of my longest, I believe. Anyway, I have decided that the next chapter will be the last one, although if it gets too long it will be divided into two. But I'm personally hoping for one so that the story will finally be done. And I am really going to try and get it finished by the time school starts back up on January 5.**

**Review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I know it probably hasn't been easy keeping up with this story since I don't update regularly, but thanks to those of you who have stuck with it. I hope you enjoy this final chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****Eragon****, ****Eldest****, ****Brisingr**** or any of the characters in this story. They are all Christopher Paolini's. I also don't own the few random quotations throughout this chapter.**

Chapter Eighteen:

Eragon wiped his sleeve across his mouth, staining it with red. There was a sharp, metallic taste in his mouth. Blood. A soldier who had caught him by surprise had punched him. Leaning down over Saphira, he murmured, "waise heill", watching with satisfaction as the holes in her wings that had been punched by arrows disappeared.

Far below, Eragon could hear cries of pain, shouts of terror, and the clash of metal on metal. Suppressing a sigh, he pulled his gauntlets back on. He was already weary and they had been fighting less than a day. The Varden had held up well so far, but new troops of the Empire were constantly appearing on the horizon, fortifying the king's troops and nullifying any advances made by the rebels. Mounds of bodies were starting to appear on the battlefield, and the soldiers often had to watch out to make sure that a body lying on the ground wasn't an enemy waiting for the opportunity to kill one final man.

_I suppose we must return to the battle_, Eragon said wearily.

_I think we must conserve our strength, little one_, Saphira answered. _You have already taken many hits and have been fighting off Galbatorix's pet magicians for hours now._ Even as Saphira spoke Trianna screamed into Eragon's head that there was a magician on the battlefield who simply would not die, imploring Eragon to come and help. Sighing, Eragon told Saphira to head back towards the battle, and after a moment they located Trianna battling another magician. Within minutes they had defeated the empire's magician and Trianna ran off to the aid of another member of Du Vrangr Gata. Before too many soldiers could begin attacking Eragon, Saphira took to the sky again.

_Where do you suppose he is? _Eragon asked.

Saphira twisted her neck back to look at Eragon for a moment before flying even higher into the sky. _I am not sure. Do not let it trouble you._

But try as he might, Eragon could not stop thinking about Murtagh. _I know he and Thorn are here,_ he pointed out to Saphira a moment later. _I saw them walking around in the empire's camp before the battle._

_Perhaps they are biding their time,_ Saphira growled. _Waiting for us to become too tired to fight, like on the Burning Plains._

_Perhaps…_

_Which is all the more reason to stop fighting and save our energy. If they do decide to fight we will need all the strength we can get. And as much energy is stored in Aren, it may not be enough. Not with the length of this battle and all the men who fight in it. _Saphira hesitated before saying her next words. _If we become too weary we may have to rely on the energy left in the bodies of the men that are dying._

_No! _Eragon protested. _I will never do that. I could never do that. You know I despise such a thought._

_Eragon, all I am saying is that we must do whatever we can to win this battle. The empire's soldiers are slaughtering our friends mercilessly. There is no doubt that they intend to kill every last one of us. If the men are already dying, why prolong their agony when we can end their suffering?_

Eragon remained silent. Eventually, Saphira flew back around to the Varden's camp and landed. Eragon unbuckled his legs from the saddle and jumped down, heading to Jormundur's tent.

"How are the troops faring?" he questioned, reluctant to hear the answer.

Jormundur ran a worried hand through his hair. "Not as well as I should hope. Reinforcements for Galbatorix's army keep appearing, the most recent coming for the north. Arya claims the elves are on their way, but with so little notice it will still take them at least three or four days to arrive. Hopefully we will still be alive at that time. By then our army may be so depleted that they will have to fight alone. We may have just led them to their deaths."

Eragon shook his head sadly. "It would have happened eventually. We must band together and hope that they arrive in time to save us. Have the dwarves arrived yet?"

"The first began to arrive a few hours ago. Thankfully, they were prepared for battle when they arrived and have already begun to fight alongside us."

Eragon nodded. "I will return to the battle then. Where are our troops the weakest?"

Jormundur motioned Eragon over to a crude drawing of a map of the surrounding area. "Here we have lost many men," Jormundur said pointing to a northwest corner of the map. "As well as over here. Many of the additional troops of the empire have been attacking these areas and are breaking through our ranks."

"Very well," Eragon said. "I shall go with Saphira and see what we can do. Please keep us informed of what is happening with the elves."

"Aye," Jormundur nodded. "And be careful, Eragon."

Nodding his head, Eragon stepped out of the tent and into the daylight. Climbing back onto Saphira, he relayed Jormundur's information to her.

_I do not like this_, Saphira commented briefly before jumping into the air. _We should be conserving our strength and energy._

_Yes,_ Eragon admitted._ But I will not let our troops fight without their leader. Live or die, I will not wait idly for something that may not even come. At least this way, the Varden shall never be able to say that we abandoned them in their greatest fight._

Saphira did not respond, but Eragon could feel her support growing. Soon the pair could hear the hoarse cries of the Varden shouting encouragement to them, and Eragon brandished his sword, waving it in the air, while Saphira roared and let out a stream of fire from her mouth.

-------------------------------

Murtagh watched Eragon and Saphira fly around the battlefield from a distance.

_We are going to have to go attack them sometime, _Thorn encouraged his Rider.

Murtagh looked sideways at his dragon. Thorn had been itching to go into battle since Murtagh had given the order to attack. Yet Murtagh had delayed fighting Eragon and Saphira. Now he could feel his oaths of fealty and allegiance to Galbatorix urging him forward. It would not be much longer and he would have to obey.

_Galbatorix is already on his way here,_ Thorn said, trying a different tactic. _You know he will be upset with us if we do not have Saphira and Eragon cornered by the time he gets here. Remember what he said about not accepting excuses or-_

_Mistakes. Yes, I know, _Murtagh answered bitterly. _Why are you so eager to fight them? Is it because you know, like I do, that they will fall? And then you will have another dragon other than Shruikan to talk with? Because Saphira will want nothing to do with you. Nothing! She will see you a traitor just as I am seen here as a traitor._

Thorn hung his head, ashamed. Looking at him, Murtagh felt a sense of guilt. Thorn was his only friend and should not be considered a traitor by the Varden. Not like him. No, Thorn had been born into captivity. He had never had a choice.

_I'm sorry, Thorn_, Murtagh apologized. Quickly changing the subject he added aloud, "You are right, of course. Galbatorix will be here soon and we should get this done quickly."

Thorn turned around happily to face Murtagh, but the Rider avoided his eyes. Thorn could tell by the way Murtagh had stiffened that he was detaching himself from the situation. He was becoming someone even Thorn did not know. Someone with barriers that kept him from getting hurt. He was becoming the man the Varden thought he was. They did not accept him as he was, so he changed himself to fit their view of him.

Sadly, Thorn lowered himself closer to the ground so that Murtagh could climb on. Strapping his legs into the saddle, Murtagh listened to the horns bellowing his arrival to the battle. Within minutes, Thorn lifted into the air and flew in the direction of Saphira and Eragon.

-----------------------------------

Eragon looked up at the sound of the bugles. He had heard that sound before and knew what it meant. Sure enough, a red speck came into his vision a moment later, growing larger as it approached.

Saphira growled apprehensively. _Now they come. After we have been fighting for hours. Well, they shall soon see that they should have stayed away altogether._

Eragon hastily began to draw energy from Aren. The ring's vast amount of energy that once had seemed so full was beginning to empty, and Eragon had to stop himself from using too much. However, the strength that he was able to withdraw replenished his depleted energy and soothed his aching muscles.

_Lead them away from the battle, Saphira, _Eragon urged._ I am sure they will follow us. I do not want the Varden becoming disheartened because they have shown up._

Saphira quickly darted away from the battlefield, flying amidst the clouds. Eragon scoured the ground as she flew, looking for a possible place to fight Murtagh if it came to that. Just as he was about to point out a piece of land, Eragon noticed the red blur barrelling toward them from the side, just managing to grab onto Saphira with his hands before the two dragons collided.

------------------------------------

Murtagh gasped as the breath was knocked out of him. Thorn had flown straight into Saphira and the two dragons were clawing and roaring at each other. He saw the shock on Eragon's face and wondered sadly if it was because Eragon thought he had died back in Uru'baen or if it was just because he had been surprised by the attack.

The two dragons continued to fight, scratching and biting at each other. Their roars deafened Murtagh's ears, and he quickly had to use magic to deflect a jet of fire that came flaming out of Saphira's mouth. He kept his eyes on Eragon, watching as he leaned down to heal a part of Saphira's wing that had been ripped by Thorn's talons.

_Are you hurt, Thorn?_ Murtagh asked.

_Just a few scratches and bites_, Thorn answered.

Murtagh nodded to himself, keeping his eyes focused on Eragon and Saphira. They were obviously having a conversation, although both kept sneaking furtive glances toward he and Thorn. Slowly, Murtagh drew Zar'roc from its sheath, watching as the sunlight caught it and reflected off. He briefly admired how it matched Thorn's scales almost perfectly. Ruby red.

Blood red. Crimson.

_Ready?_ Thorn asked, flapping his wings faster to gain some altitude.

_Yes._

Eagerly, Thorn flew higher into the air, ducking behind some clouds. When he emerged, Murtagh twisted in the saddle to find Saphira still level with Thorn. Again the dragons crashed into each other, this time with their Riders fending each other off with their swords. Murtagh did not hear the sound of their swords hitting each other though. The air whistled past his ears, and coupled with the screeching of the dragons it drowned out any other noise. It seemed to Murtagh that he had to fend off Eragon for hours, though in reality it was only a few moments. Eragon clearly had the upper hand due to his elfin abilities, but since they had sparred together in their travels, Murtagh could anticipate Eragon's every move and manage to block it.

_Fly higher Thorn_, Murtagh urged. _We need to have the advantage of altitude. If we are above them, we can force them to land if we need to._

Thorn obliged, quickly flying higher. However, Saphira realized his plan and followed closely behind before spiralling away behind a cloud, away from sight. Murtagh looked around appraisingly at the clouds. There were not that many, but the ones that were there were dense and heavy. Soon Murtagh was soaked, and Thorn's scales glistened, catching the hidden rays of sunlight and turning the water droplets into droplets of blood. It was only as Murtagh watched them fall away from Thorn that he could see that they were not coloured red. Shaking his head, Murtagh tried to clear his mind. He had a job to do. A job that he was ordered to do.

So why couldn't he seem to do it?

---------------------

_I need to talk to him,_ Eragon shouted at Saphira. _He'll listen to me! He has to listen!_

_He won't listen to anyone,_ Saphira growled._ And neither will his dragon. You have already tried to reason with him, Eragon. Or do you forget our encounter with them on the Burning Plains?_ Saphira twisted her head from side to side, searching for the two traitors.

_Saphira, I already told you that I have talked to Murtagh since then. I know he does not want to fight with the king. If I can just manage to convince him to-_

_Convince him to what? To give up his life? To give up the life of his dragon? Eragon, ask yourself, if someone asked you this, what would you do?_ Saphira waited for a minute, but Eragon did not reply. _I thought so._

"Saphira!" Eragon yelped as he saw Thorn come swooping down out of the clouds. Swiftly Saphira dove out of the way, rolling to the side. Eragon felt the contents of his stomach rise as Saphira completed the spiral, coming face to face with Thorn.

"Wait!" Eragon called just as the two dragons were about to begin fighting again. "Murtagh," he pleaded. "Just listen to me. Let us help you. I know you don't want to fight with Galbatorix. I know you don't want to serve him." He implored Murtagh with his eyes, craning his head around Saphira's neck to get a better glimpse of his brother. Thorn was staring at him, hatred in his eyes, while Murtagh looked down at Thorn's saddle, avoiding Eragon's eyes. "I know you don't want to do this," he said softly.

"It's not about what I want!" Murtagh finally said angrily, looking up at Eragon. "It's never been about what I want. It's about surviving. And just because you are my brother does not mean that I won't do whatever I have to in order to survive."

Eragon flinched, but kept his eyes locked on Murtagh's. "We can help you. Let us help you."

Eragon watched as Murtagh looked back down at the saddle, Zar'roc hanging limply in his hand. He could see that his brother was in turmoil, unsure of what to do. Finally, Murtagh looked back up, whispering, "You cannot help us, Eragon. No one can."

Even with his elf-like hearing, Eragon had to strain to hear the words. Looking into Murtagh's eyes he could see that they were almost devoid of hope. A glimmer still clung to them, but it was faint.

_Little one, we cannot prolong this anymore. You just heard him say that no one can help them. We must end this. Perhaps it is better to end their suffering._

_No, Saphira,_ Eragon answered. _They want our help. There has to be some way, something that we can do-_

_Eragon!_ A voice screamed in Eragon's head.

Quickly, Eragon shut out the voice, dismissing it as Trianna. _There must be something we can do, _he continued to muse. _Perhaps if we were to capture them and lock them up Arya could find a spell to-_

_Eragon!_ The voice screamed again. _You must-_

_I'm busy right now,_ Eragon interrupted. _I am with the Red Rider, and would not like to be interrupted again._ Sealing his mind, Eragon turned back to face Murtagh. His brother's face had turned chalky white, and his eyes had lost the faint glimmer of hope. It was as if he was lifeless. Even Thorn appeared less animated, his wings drooping as they flapped. There appeared to be a great sadness in his eyes.

"Eragon," Murtagh began quietly at the same time as a multitude of Du Vrangr Gata's magicians broke into his mind, crying for his attention. It was Trianna's voice that finally caught his attention, frantic and on the verge of madness, "He's here!!" she screamed into his mind. "Galbatorix is here!!"

--------------------------

Murtagh watched as Eragon twisted around in the saddle, watching as the black dragon moved closer to them. Within seconds he had turned back to face Murtagh, betrayal in his eyes.

"I was trying to help you," Eragon hissed. "And this is how your repay me?! To lead Galbatorix straight to me?"

Murtagh didn't say anything, just watched as Shruikan came into view, becoming clearer and more distinct the closer he got. Soon the dragon was close enough that Murtagh could see the figure of a man on its back sitting tall and proud.

Murtagh watched as Eragon frantically conversed with Saphira, both glancing around obviously trying to find an escape. Murtagh looked around as well, but could see that there was nowhere to run to. Nowhere even to hide.

"Murtagh," Eragon pleaded. "Help us. We cannot defeat him without help! If we killed him, you would be free!"

Murtagh laughed, a rough sounding, hollow laugh. "Firstly, Eragon, I could not help even if I wanted to. Galbatorix made sure of that with my oaths. Secondly, I would never be free. The Varden would lock me up, and perhaps Thorn too, even though he has done nothing wrong."

"We're brothers," cried Eragon desperately. "We talked in Uru'baen! I thought-"

"You thought wrong," Murtagh interrupted, aware of Galbatorix's sudden presence in his mind. He stared at Eragon, willing him to understand the way it had to be, but the younger boy just appeared shocked and angry.

"Hello Murtagh," Galbatorix's voice menacingly rang out a moment later, filling the air. He smiled wickedly at the pair. "I see that you have finally done something right for once."

Murtagh felt Eragon's eyes on him again, and when he looked over he saw the bitterness in Eragon's eyes. Ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach, Murtagh turned in the direction of Galbatorix and bowed his head slightly. "My king."

The king's smile widened, apparently happy with this display of subservience. "Ahhh. Reunited _again._ It is too bad that you could not stay longer in Uru'baen with us, Eragon. We were disappointed with your early departure, weren't we Murtagh?"

Murtagh nodded, beaten. Too many conflicting thoughts were running through his head. He returned his attention back to Galbatorix and Eragon. Galbatorix was sitting on Shruikan in a relaxed position. Eragon, on the other hand, sat stiffly, and Murtagh could see his eyes constantly flickering away from the king to the battle. Soon, Murtagh could see what Eragon was looking for. A figure was heading in their direction on foot, too fast to be a human. Dismay filled him as he realized it was Arya.

Soon Arya was right below them, and apparently Galbatorix noticed to, for if it were possible, his grin seemed to grow. "Ahhh," he exclaimed. "Arya! What a pleasant surprise!"

Murtagh looked over at Eragon, whose face was fixed in a grim expression. _You fool!_ he cursed silently. _Can you not see past her disguise? That she is not on your side!_

_Calm down Murtagh_, Thorn urged in his head. _You knew this would happen sooner or later._

_It will destroy him! _Murtagh countered. _I know how he cares for her, the way he looked at her when we rescued her._ He stopped abruptly, not willing to talk anymore.

Slowly, the trio drifted further towards the ground as Galbatorix continued to make idle talk. Eragon's eyes flitted between the king and Arya, never looking at either for more than a few seconds. Within a couple minutes, the Dragon Riders had become close enough to Arya that they could converse with her.

"Arya," Galbatorix said, a smile on his face. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"Don't talk to her," Eragon growled, while his hand reached for his sword.

"Why don't you explain to Shadeslayer here just what you have been doing these past few months?" Galbatorix told Arya. "Why don't you tell him now? I give you permission to tell him now."

Murtagh watched as Eragon looked confusedly back and forth between the king and Arya, his gaze passing over Murtagh's. His brother seemed hesitant now, unsure of what to do or think.

Arya remained silent, staring up at the three riders with her impassive eyes. Her face was expressionless, although Murtagh believed he could just detect a hint of pain in her face. Her shoulders, normally held up so proudly, slumped slightly and her mouth was pulled back in a tight line. The silence apparently did not please Galbatorix.

"Tell him!" The king roared at the elf. "Tell him how you have been working for me all along! Ever since he met you, you have been working for me! That you killed Nasuada and helped fake Murtagh's death! That you have been leading him on, betraying him…" Galbatorix laughed deeply.

What happened next caught Murtagh by surprise. He saw Saphira barrel into Shruikan and the two dragons began fighting. He soon began to feel the pull of his oaths, urging him towards the battle. Struggling with himself, Murtagh shakily pulled Zar'roc out of its sheath, the red metal glinting in the sunlight. By the time he had managed to drag it out completely Thorn had already begun flying hurriedly toward the other dragons.

Leaping between the two, Thorn dove straight into the battle. Murtagh raised his sword up in defense as Eragon's sword came crashing down. The clanging of metal filled Murtagh's as he blocked and parried Eragon's advances, the pull of the magic leading his actions. He quickly glanced behind him to see that Galbatorix had retreated a safe distance away. The king was staring down in concentration at the ground below, a slightly amused look upon his face. Blocking another attack from Eragon, Murtagh risked a quick glimpse down. It looked like about ten other men and women had reached where the Riders fought, and all were standing there, staring up at the king in total concentration. Slowly, one by one, they began to drop over.

_Murtagh_, Galbatorix's voice suddenly filled his head, causing him to momentarily lose his focus and receive a scratch on his arm from Eragon. _Did I not tell you to block all attacks, physical and mental?_

_But Eragon_- Murtagh began before being cut off.

_Deal with these magicians,_ Galbatorix ordered. _I will finish Eragon myself. I believe that if I kill him I will be able to ensorcell Saphira before she is able to do anything. With the aid of your energy I should be able to transport her back to Uru'baen, where we shall keep her so that the Dragon race may continue on._

Murtagh shook his head wearily, too tired to argue with the king. _Let's go_, he urged Thorn. The dragon pushed away from Saphira and quickly flew off as Shruikan moved past them and began fighting with the sapphire dragon.

The magicians were easily dealt with. Murtagh could tell they were not very experienced in the art of magic, and as such, the ones that Galbatorix had not already killed were knocked unconscious by Murtagh. Soon only Arya stood on the plain below.

_You should have killed them_, Thorn spoke in Murtagh's head.

_Perhaps, but I think I have enough blood on my hands._

Thorn snorted, turning back towards Galbatorix, Shruikan, Eragon, and Saphira. The pairs were locked in a fight, and Murtagh watched as the two dragons rolled over and over each other, fighting to gain the upper hand. Meanwhile, Eragon and the king exchanged ferocious blows. Galbatorix appeared to be faring better than Eragon, as he leisurely blocked any advances attempted by the younger Rider. Despite Eragon's elfin abilities, he seemed to be tiring quickly, and soon Saphira was struggling to free herself from the claws of Shruikan.

Murtagh watched as Saphira finally escaped, pushing herself and Eragon away from the king and his dragon. Her scales glittered in the sky as she dove downward, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

_Stop them_, Galbatorix ordered Murtagh who reluctantly told Thorn to cut off Eragon and Saphira. Thorn flew in the path of the pair, hoping to slow them down, but Murtagh saw the determination in both Eragon and Saphira's eyes. Instead of veering away or stopping, Saphira, if anything, flew faster.

Murtagh didn't even have time to react. One moment he was on Thorn watching as Saphira flew directly towards them, and the next moment he saw Thorn trying desperately to get out of her way, ducking his head and trying to angle his body to fly downwards. However, while Thorn had gotten out of the path, Murtagh was hit with the full force of Saphira's tail, knocking him off of Thorn where he fell to the ground a short distance away.

Pain was the only sensation Murtagh felt. He looked up at the sky, tears leaking out of his eyes while his breath came out in short gasps. Slowly he brought his head up to see that his breastplate was dented. It hurt to breathe, and it was getting harder to with the metal pressing into his chest. The armour was dented in such a way that it prevented him from getting a good breath.

_Murtagh!!_ Thorn yelled through their mental link. _Murtagh!_

_I'm …. here. Can't… breathe._ As Murtagh tried to reassure Thorn the ruby dragon landed and padded over, his eyes frantic with worry. Murtagh's breaths continued to get shorter and shorter, and black dots began to line his vision. Struggling to sit up, Murtagh moaned in pain and fell back to the ground. His left arm was lying at a crooked angle from where he had tried to brace his fall, and with his right hand he struggled to remove the breastplate that was constricting his breathing.

_Thorn…_ Murtagh said weakly. _I can't… get it… off._

Thorn whimpered, his eyes staring in worry at his Rider. Murtagh continued to gasp, his fingers frantically trying to undo the lacings that held his breastplate on either side. The knot that was holding it together stayed though, and Murtagh began to wheeze, his breathing becoming shallow. Closing his eyes, Murtagh tried to regain his composure and even his breathing. Opening his eyes again, Murtagh looked up to find a shadow crossing his face.

Thorn growled protectively. However, Murtagh heard Arya speaking in soothing tones to the dragon, her voice carried by the breeze. _Let her… through… Thorn_, Murtagh spoke, his voice barely a whisper. Soon Arya was standing over him, her eyes concerned. She immediately bent down and started undoing the lacings of his breastplate. It took only a few seconds for her nimble fingers to undo the knots and slip the armour off of him.

"I think you have some broken ribs, and your arm looks broken," Arya said quietly as Murtagh sucked in air. She softly murmured the healing words, and soon Murtagh's arm began to feel slightly better. "It is not completely healed," the elf warned, "but it should withstand the rest of the battle if you do not handle your sword with it or use it to hold a shield." She raised her head suddenly, looking in the direction where Murtagh could hear sounds of fighting. Sitting up, Murtagh winced from the pain of his ribs, and looked over to where he could see Galbatorix and Eragon still fighting from their dragons' backs.

"He is holding up well," Arya commented. It was clear she was talking about Eragon. For the first time, Murtagh really looked at Arya, seeing her in a whole new light. She was depending on Eragon just as much as he was, Murtagh realized. They were in the same position. As if realizing his thoughts, Arya smiled wryly down at him, then got up and began walking back, closer to the battle.

_What are you doing,_ a voice suddenly shouted in Murtagh's head. _Get up and help out. I grow weary of your brother. I have ordered Arya to begin attacking him with magic, and I need you up here to distract him._

_Yes… my king_, Murtagh managed to get out. Struggling to his knees, Murtagh slowly began to get to his feet. Once standing, he doubled over from the pain in his ribs, Zar'roc hanging loosely in his hand.

_Murtagh,_ Thorn said worriedly.

_Don't worry_, Murtagh said through gritted teeth. _I'll… manage._ Grabbing hold of Thorn's saddle he slowly began to pull himself onto the ruby dragon. Looking up, he saw Saphira and Shruikan still fighting in the air. It appeared as if Eragon and Saphira were tiring though. Saphira's wings were beginning to droop and she was having trouble fending off the larger dragon.

Murtagh watched as Saphira once again pushed away from black dragon and began flying towards the ground. However, Shruikan was older and larger, and he soon caught up to her. Murtagh watched in horror as Shruikan and Galbatorix closed in. As they neared, Shruikan shifted his weight and hurled himself at Saphira, crashing into her and Eragon. The momentum threw Saphira off, and both dragon and rider went crashing to the ground. Murtagh looked down and saw Arya standing below the fight. She began to run, but Saphira crashed into her nonetheless, sending the elf flying through the air.

Murtagh's eyes widened as he looked at the three prone figures on the ground. _Move_, he urged them. _Get up!_ Soon Saphira got up on her feet. Eragon was still on her back, strapped into the saddle, but Murtagh could see that he too was beginning to move. However, Arya lay motionless, sprawled on the ground a few feet away from them.

Looking up, Murtagh could see Shruikan lazily drifting towards the ground, Galbatorix still sitting on his back. Meanwhile, Eragon looked to be hurriedly undoing the fastenings that held his legs in Saphira's saddle. Murtagh watched as Eragon hopped to the ground from Saphira's back, gingerly landing on his feet. Murtagh let himself fall back down off of Thorn; there was no point in flying now that both of the other Riders were fighting on the ground.

Grimacing, Murtagh slowly began to inch his way closer to where Eragon and Galbatorix stood.

"You have put up a much better fight than I expected," Galbatorix was saying to Eragon. "You would have been a great asset to me. However, as it is, I have grown weary of your antics. Unfortunately I am no longer prepared to offer you a position in my service, although your dragon shall serve me."

"Saphira will never serve you," Eragon spat out, lashing forward with his sword.

Murtagh watched as the king and Eragon began to fight again. He doubled over, clutching his ribs and panting from the effort, making the pain all that more worse. Nevertheless, he slowly continued to make his way toward the fighting. After a while he reached Arya and knelt down beside her, putting his hand near her mouth. Warm air brushed up against his palm, a testimony to her survival.

_She's… unconscious, Thorn…_ _She'll be… alright._ Murtagh critically looked at her, assessing that she had only hit her head and was otherwise fine. He shoved her body a few feet further away from the battle, doubling over and groaning from the pain it caused his ribs. Then he continued on his own way toward the battle.

Galbatorix had begun to resort to magic. Murtagh watched as Eragon flew ten feet through the air, landing heavily on the ground. He immediately got back to his feet, watching the king warily. Murtagh continued to move forward, the magic of the oaths he had sworn compelling him forward. By the time he reached the two men they were once again locked in sword fight, dancing and parrying around each other. Murtagh could tell that the king was beginning to get frustrated. Sweat poured off the faces of all three Riders, as their dragons stood nervously a few feet away from the battle, growling at each other every once and a while.

For the first time Murtagh noticed that the sun was beginning to set, casting everything a blood red. Murtagh looked down at Zar'roc, the glow of the sun making the sword even redder, if possible. Eragon and Galbatorix still continued to fight, and the oaths still forced Murtagh to continue on.

_Be careful_, Thorn warned Murtagh.

It was all Murtagh could do to jerk his head forward. Slowly he straightened up to his full height, gasping in pain as his broken ribs shifted. Using Zar'roc to support himself, Murtagh continued to stumble forward. Getting closer Murtagh could see that Eragon was quickly tiring; his movements were getting slower, and Galbatorix was able to strike him a few times.

Finally Eragon lost his footing, tripping over backwards and landing on the ground. Murtagh could see Galbatorix grinning and watched as the king took one step forward, then another. Eragon was scrambling back on the ground, trying to put as much distance as possible between the king and himself. By the time Murtagh got there, Eragon had managed to get back up on his feet again and was frantically blocking advances by the king.

Murtagh watched as Galbatorix murmured something and Eragon suddenly froze in place, his sword raised in defense against Galbatorix. Galbatorix laughed cruelly, walking around Eragon a few times, while the Varden's Rider vehemently struggled against the magical bonds that prevented him from moving. However, what the king could not see was Saphira flying across the field toward Eragon. Shruikan noticed her as she flew past him and took up pursuit with Thorn flying behind both. Murtagh felt the oaths he had sworn to Galbatorix force him forward, and he jumped between Galbatorix and Eragon in case Saphira tried to attack the king. However, at that moment Galbatorix raised his sword and brought it down.

Murtagh watched Eragon's eyes widen in shock and horror before the pain became everything he was aware of.

_Fool!_ he heard someone say in his mind as he was shoved to the side. He stumbled, landing on his knees, and looked down to he see a red liquid coming out of his side. Moaning from the pain of both his ribs and from where the sword had struck him, Murtagh fell to the ground, his eyes blurring from the tears leaking out of his eyes.

Gasping for breath, Murtagh became aware of a sharp, metallic taste his mouth. Lifting his arm was a struggle, but he managed to raise it up to his mouth, and when he brought it away he could see it was stained red.

_Murtagh! _Thorn said frantically into his head.

_Thorn…_ Murtagh answered weakly, his voice trailing off. _Thorn…_

Soon the large red dragon was standing over Murtagh, casting a shadow on him. He curled a wing around the wounded Rider, concealing and protecting him from the rest of the world. Murtagh closed his eyes, suddenly tired.

A while later, Thorn's growl caused Murtagh to open his eyes. He could hear a voice speaking from outside Thorn's wing and he could see the shadow of a man on the other side.

_Who… is it?_ he asked Thorn.

Thorn only growled louder, and Murtagh felt his dragon's wing folding in even tighter around him.

The voice outside Thorn's protective wing raised in level, almost shouting, although it sounded like it was pleading. _Thorn… is that… Eragon?_

_Don't concern yourself with who it is_, Thorn said angrily. _I shall make him leave._

_Did… we win?_

_If by 'we' you mean the Varden, then yes, we won._

_Thorn… I need to… talk… to him_, Murtagh said, struggling to sit up. He fell back down, moaning as the pain hit him again. Thorn whimpered at Murtagh's pain, opening up their mental link further so that he could share it. _Please Thorn…_

In reply, Thorn reluctantly opened his wing, letting the dying light of the sun in along with the other Rider. Eragon hurried forward and knelt beside Murtagh, kneeling in the pool of blood slowly surrounding the Rider.

"You won?" Murtagh whispered.

"Yes," Eragon confirmed. He looked down sadly at Murtagh before ripping off a strip from his shirt and holding it against Murtagh's stomach. Murtagh gasped from the shooting pain of his ribs. "Waise heill," the Rider spoke softly, watching as the sword wound began sealing shut. "After Galbatorix stabbed you Saphira was able to reach me and Galbatorix. She was able to distract him long enough for me to be able to loosen his hold and release the magic. I managed to stab him before he regained control. I just watched him die a few moments ago. Shruikan died not long after"

Murtagh watched as Eragon contemplated him for a moment, his eyes conflicted. "What… is it?" he finally asked.

"Nothing really," Eragon said, rubbing his head with his arm. "I just… it's Arya. What did Galbatorix mean? What was he talking about?"

Murtagh motioned Eragon to come closer. "If… I tell you… will you promise… to forgive… her?"

Eragon hesitated, "I don't know Murtagh. I can't promise anything."

"Please… Eragon. Forgive… her."

"How can I forgive her when I do not even know what she has done?" Eragon asked, his voice becoming frustrated. Thorn growled in warning. "I'm just trying to understand," he said, his voice breaking.

Murtagh looked over. He believed Eragon could forgive Arya, could convince the others to forgive Arya. "Arya… worked for… Galbatorix," he explained. "She… has been since… we rescued her… from Gilead." He paused, taking a breath. "Galbatorix… used her as a spy… He knew I… I was with you… because she told him." Murtagh took another shaky breath. "She told you… she couldn't find me… when I was captured by… the Twins… but she only said… that because she was… ordered to... Galbatorix… wanted me back."

Eragon looked in shock. "But how? She was with me the whole time I was in Du Weldenvarden?"

Grimacing from the pain, Murtagh continued on. "You… were busy with… Oromis… It was easy… for her to tell… everyone she was… working on her project for… the Agaeti Blodhren… ceremony… when she actually… left the forest… and went to Uru'baen. She…," Murtagh stopped.

"What?" Eragon prodded, his voice in pain.

"She… told him… my true name," Murtagh whispered. "He was able… to find out her… true name in Gilead… after torturing her… because elves instinctively know… their true names… I didn't know… mine… so he couldn't find it… But since… elves are able… to discover true names… he would use Arya to… find others' true names."

"So she was betraying me, all along, like-" Eragon abruptly stopped, his face turning scarlet.

"Like me," Murtagh finished. "But… Eragon… you have to see… she was just… as much his prisoner… as me. You… have to forgive… her. Please."

A sharp pain in Murtagh's stomach made him gasp and brought tears to his eyes. Eragon looked over worriedly. "Murtagh…" he trailed off, tears coming to his eyes.

Murtagh closed his eyes; he was getting so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep. He opened his eyes when Eragon gently shook him. "You have to stay awake, Murtagh," Eragon pleaded. "You can't give up. You'll be okay."

"Eragon… you can't just… get up… and ride away… after being… stabbed between… the ribs," Murtagh joked feebly. But his words were hollow sounding and soon he was doubled over, coughing up blood and moaning from the pain.

Once the fit had subsided, Murtagh motioned Eragon closer. "Eragon…" he mumbled. "Promise me… something…"

Eragon looked down at Murtagh with tears in his eyes. "You don't have to do this, Murtagh", Eragon whispered. "You're going to be fine."

"Just… promise."

"Alright," Eragon agreed. "I promise."

"Don't… let the Varden… harm… Thorn. Tell them… I forced… him into my… service. That… he had no… choice in the matter…" Murtagh began coughing again.

The tears began falling freely from Eragon's eyes. "I'd never let them touch him," Eragon assured Murtagh. He gripped Murtagh's bloody hand as the red Rider continued to cough.

_Thorn…_ Murtagh said weakly, his voice quivering. _I'm sorry… about… what I… said before… about not wanting… to be… a Rider._

Thorn curled his head back around. _Don't apologize. Conserve your strength_, the dragon instructed, his eyes hollowly looking at his injured Rider.

_Eragon… will look… after you…_ Murtagh continued on, oblivious to Thorn's words. _You will… be okay… You will… finally… be free…_

_We are free,_ Thorn corrected.

A shadow of a smile passed across Murtagh's face. _That… we are…_ He suddenly turned back to face Eragon, the pain etched into his face as if it were carved there. The grime from fighting covered his face, darkening it in the shadow. "Eragon… can you… forgive me?" he asked, staring up at the redness of Thorn's wing before closing his eyes.

"Murtagh, you saved my life," Eragon said, his voice breaking. There was no reply. "Murtagh, did you hear me?" Still, there was no response. "I forgive you, Murtagh," Eragon said louder. "Murtagh? Murtagh?" his voice got more frantic and he gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Murtagh, say something."

But Murtagh remained silent. As Eragon still shook the older boy's shoulder, Thorn suddenly let out an agonized roar. "Murtagh!" Eragon yelled, shaking harder. "You can't leave now!"

_Little one_, Saphira's voice entered Eragon's mind. _I think he is gone…_

The tears began flowing from Eragon's eyes. When Thorn began to growl at him, he got to his feet and walked over to where Saphira stood a few feet away, her large eyes concerned. Thorn curled himself around Murtagh's body as soon as Eragon left the area. Looking over, Eragon could see that Arya was starting to move on the opposite side of the field. However, Eragon did not know what to think. His feelings were all confused; he did not know what to do about Arya. Looking back at her, he could see that she had sat up and was looking over towards him. He watched as she got to her feet and walked over.

"Arya."

The elf remained silent for a moment. "Murtagh?" she asked softly, a line creasing her forehead.

"Dead," replied Eragon wearily. He looked down at his hands, noticing the dirt and dried blood on them. Feeling Arya's eyes on him, Eragon looked back up. The elf's eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

"He told you?"

Eragon nodded.

"There is no excuse for what I have done," Arya said. She hugged herself with her arms, looking directly at Eragon as she spoke. "I will accept the consequences of my actions."

"Arya… Were you not forced into service by the king?" he paused, waiting for Arya to reply, but when none was forthcoming he continued. "Then, it was not your fault."

"Let us not pretend, Eragon," Arya said sharply. "I have committed crimes against the Varden, given away many secrets, betrayed both you and my family. I deserve this. I heard you speak about Murtagh. You considered him a traitor. Well, I am just like him, if not worse."

"Did anyone besides Murtagh and Galbatorix know about your allegiance?" Eragon asked. When Arya remained silent again, Eragon nodded his head. "Then no one knows about your betrayal. I think that it would be better for everyone right now if we do not execute the princess of the elves and one of the key members of the Varden. It does not excuse your actions, but they were not of your own doing. What's done is done. I- I think I would have forgiven Murtagh, and I need to extend the same courtesy to you."

_I agree with Eragon on this matter_, Saphira projected to Arya. _Although you were working for the king you have also helped us. And it is hard to consider you our enemy._

Arya simply bowed her head in gratitude toward Saphira before turning back to Eragon. "Thank you," she murmured softly.

Eragon nodded. "Perhaps you can help me with one thing?"

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They buried him in a nondescript grave on a hillside overlooking the battlefield. Thorn could barely stand to let them put Murtagh in the ground, but at last relented. Standing over the graveside, Eragon, Arya, Saphira and Thorn said their final goodbyes.

Arya quietly said a few words in the ancient language, while Saphira let out a sad roar. Thorn could not be consoled and refused to speak or listen to anyone. He lay beside the plot, his nose touching the freshly shovelled dirt, his eyes empty. Finally Eragon went and stood beside the ruby dragon, resting his hand lightly on the dragon.

"You were a good friend, Murtagh," Eragon began. "A good brother," he corrected a few seconds later before pausing. "You rescued me from the Ra'zac. You helped me reach the Varden. We had our differences, but you know, it really doesn't matter now, does it?" his voice broke, and he struggled to compose himself. Leaning down he whispered, "You are forgiven, but I won't ever forget you." Standing upright, he gently rubbed Thorn's scales. "We will wait for you down the hill."

Walking down the hill with Arya and Saphira, Eragon admired the beauty of the sky. Below the Varden and Galbatorix's old army were cleaning up the battlefield, carting the wounded and dead away. After the king had fallen and his army had realized it, many had turned and supported the Varden. All was forgiven, for many of the men had been conscripted into the army without a choice in the matter, and those that were loyal to the king had fought to their deaths. A flicker of a smile crossed Eragon's face as he looked back up at the sky. During the battle he had failed to notice that at some point in time, night had fallen, but looking to the east he could see a faint light rising from the earth.

A new day was beginning.

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**So that's it!** **What did you think? Okay, first off I know I killed Murtagh… I didn't want to, but it was the only way I could see the story resolving itself (and was really how I planned it from the beginning). Let me explain my reasoning. If Galbatorix won, Murtagh would be a slave the rest of his unnaturally long life, which I think is quite sad. On the other hand, if the Varden won, the dwarves would no doubt be calling for his head, and I don't think any of the elves or members of the Varden are in love with him either. So he would either be a slave the rest of his life, or be executed. I didn't really like either option, so I decided to kill him off. Sorry! **

**Anyway, I hope you liked the last chapter, and once again, thank you for reading my first fanfic! I am hoping to start another one soon, and have been mulling over an idea for a plot. Right now I'm thinking it will contain a slightly darker Murtagh (not really dark, but a bit darker than this story). So watch out for that one if you want to!**

**Once again, thanks so much to everyone who read my story, and especially to all of the reviewers!!**


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